


Run With The Devil

by allourheroes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Barebacking, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Sort of Underage, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 54,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allourheroes/pseuds/allourheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer was on Earth before the angels had any clue. (AU in which Dean never went to hell and Sam is a teenager...but so is Lucifer.)</p><p>[Hiatus, but not abandoned. Currently reviewing and lightly editing chapters 13 to 20. (1/25/14)]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I was pretty consistent with posting this on tumblr, so I figured I might as well share it here, too. Short (~1000 word) chapters were posted daily, but I took a bit of time off to finish up the semester.
> 
> The rating was changed, but only after over 20,000 words, so, to any newcomers, don't expect anything sexual for, oh...a while.

Castiel's superiors did not send him down to earth to make friends or to have new experiences.

They sent him to find the Righteous Man. He must be on their side in the upcoming apocalypse. There is no uncertainty there. It must be. It is the Plan.

Castiel has never wavered before, never questioned authority. He believed wholeheartedly his brothers had their best interests in mind--that being their _Father’s_ interests.

After all, it was He who created them and He who they must obey, the others were merely conduits through which His word was passed. He never had reason to doubt his Father or the Host’s adherence to His will.

Then, he actually met Dean Winchester--a man who said things like “screw destiny, right in the face” and asked him if he’d ever even met God. (Castiel hadn’t.) How could he know his brothers were even acting out his Father’s will if he himself did not know what that was?

He had faith in his brothers because he had faith in his Father, but as time went on, that faith waned.

He wanted to believe in the Host, he truly did, but he knew his Father would not order the destruction of his most favored creations--not like this.

As time went on, his faith grew again, boundless and bright, but no longer in the will of Heaven, but instead in free will and Dean Winchester.

Dean wanted to save the world, messed up as it was, wanted to save his kid brother who had a heart so pure and open Castiel could see that even the unworthy would find little difficulty working its way in. Sam had the amazing potential to truly be anything, accept anyone. It was a hard quality to find in the small minds of humans--or angels, for that matter. Evil, however, could easily make residence in a beautiful thing like that.

But he wouldn’t let that happen. He didn’t _want_ to.

When his superiors spoke of Sam’s fate, that of corruption and evil and punishment, Castiel thought of what Dean saw--a mere child at fourteen years, still growing awkwardly into his body--and of how he himself had seen Sam--smiling and nervous, asking him if he was really an angel--and he knew that he must help the Winchesters.

This was not His will.

Dean was fighting monsters, grieving his recently deceased father, and trying his damnedest to not only survive but to give his brother a semi-normal life in the middle of everything else. He kept him in school, encouraged him to work hard, but not too hard, and convinced him that even with John and Mary both gone, they could keep things together. They would be okay.

They had suffered and nevertheless persevered, trying to save the world in whatever way they could. They needed to keep going, to find something to make things bearable. They leaned on each other.

Castiel had no reason to want to destroy this, to tear them apart from one another.

So, he didn’t.

What good would it do to pull the Winchester brothers apart and force them against each other? It would bring pain, sorrow, destruction… He didn’t see the necessity.

Instead, Castiel stayed, for the most part, with them, preventing his brothers from carrying out their plans, at least while he could. He helped them fight evil and learned more about them, gaining their trust as they gained his.

The two boys had treated him, at first, with deference--well, rather, _Dean_ had, while Sam had been amazed and dumbfounded and shockingly (to Dean, at least) believing. Whatever that was between them, it had developed slowly into what had to have been friendship. The only friendships Castiel had ever known. Ones he didn’t wish to lose, that he’d undoubtedly fight for.

He saw Sam grow over the course of a year and saw how much difference that made for humans, how the boy’s (“teenager’s,” Dean would tell him if he had the chance) interests changed and the way Dean and Sam were each other’s family.

There was a man who would call sometimes and check on them, tip Dean off on hunts and tell him to be careful. His name was Bobby Singer and Castiel had never met the man, but as he grew closer to the Winchesters, he felt a strange sort of kinship with him--and them. It was even stronger than that amazing thing that was friendship.

It was different than he’d ever felt with his siblings in Heaven--not that the angels up there felt like humans did at any point--but he knew the connection was that of family. Even if he’d be hesitant to admit it, that didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling things he never would have, never _should_ have, here now inhabiting a human vessel on Earth and finding such beauty in his Father’s creations that his brethren saw no use for.

Castiel wasn’t used to all of these human emotions, but there it was: faith and family and all because of Dean Winchester.

That was never the Heavenly Host’s intent. Their plan had much more to do with wiping out the majority of human life in order to bring about the apocalypse they had all been waiting for, no matter the cost.

Castiel instead stood with the “filth” of humanity and defended it, all because of a man.

The other side (the other, other side), apparently, had its own plans, too, though, because the devil didn’t seem to be playing along like the angels assumed he would.

Although Castiel was loathe to admit admiration for his fallen brother, anyone opposed to the angels’ plan for the apocalypse earned some respect in his book.

Lucifer was not in his cage, deep in the pit--in fact, he was far from it. He was somewhere his brothers and sisters would never suspect, living a life unknowing and uninterrupted.

He was growing up in his very own human body on Earth.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, what? The devil's already running around on earth?” Dean says around a mouthful of sandwich.

“Yes,” the angel replies simply.

Dean waits for more information, testing Castiel’s ability to catch human cues after a year and a half of actually having to deal directly with human beings--even if that pretty much just meant Sam and Dean.

Castiel looks confused.

“When?”

“Oh.” The angel seems to try making a mental note of what an expectant look is, but Dean has a feeling it’ll be a while before he can apply any knowledge about humanity he’s gained here. “It appears Lucifer arrived on earth approximately seventeen years ago.”

“And we haven’t heard about this yet how? Shouldn’t there have been, I dunno, a reign of fire, plagues, pink rabbits, _something_?”

Castiel shrugs, something he's learned from the Winchesters.

“Maybe he’s waiting for something? I mean, why else wouldn’t he be destroying the world or whatever?”

“Sam, we agreed you could skip school today only if it was to do awesome teenage rebellion stuff, not discuss angel business. The fact that you find all this more interesting than boobs and smoking weed in school bathrooms disturbs me deeply.” He nudges his kid brother, who sits beside him in the booth. “Come on, let’s go get you up to something sixteen-year-olds should be doing, like...well, at the very least sneaking into R-rated movies.”

Sam rolls his eyes.

“I’ll let you know when I find more information,” Castiel interrupts, but Dean appreciates that Cas has learned to give some sort of indication that he's leaving and maybe even why. With that, the angel’s gone.

“So,” Dean grins at his not-so-little brother, “want me to get you into a strip club?”

~

“I have located Lucifer.”

“Jesus, Cas.” Dean grips the towel tied around his waist. “What did we say about privacy?”

Castiel seems to be thinking hard on that, so Dean takes pity on him.

“So, where is Satan spending his days? Sunny beaches in Hawaii surrounded by beautiful women and drinks with little umbrellas in them? Swindling old people out of there retirement funds in Florida?”

The angel tries to process this information before continuing, “Lawrence, Kansas.”

Dean sputters and nearly loses his towel, “ _Here_?”

Castiel nods.

“Okay, what, _why_?” the hunter specifies.

“Nine months after his arrival, a human woman gave birth to a child.” 

“What is this, _The Omen_?”

The angel’s face scrunches up. “There are many--”

“It’s a movie, Cas, don’t worry about it.” Dean wonders for a second why he’s still here having this conversation in almost nothing, wet from the shower, but he doubts Castiel’s understanding of privacy and decency is going to kick in without some prodding. “Alright, well, I’m gonna get dressed. We can finish discussing this continuing horror comedy we got here in a minute.”

The angel nods again, but doesn’t make any move to go.

“Can you, uh, wait in the kitchen or something?”

~

Dean is happy to see Castiel sitting at the table this time instead of standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He’s come a long way.

He runs a hand through his damp hair, little droplets of water landing on his green t-shirt. “So, does that mean there’s a teenaged Satan running around out there?”

“With human parents. The man was infertile but desperately wanted a son. I believe he made them an offer and they saw no reason not to accept. It was seen as a miracle.”

“Damn, that’s fucked up.” Things start to click in his head, “Wait. He’s here, he’s _Sam’s_ age, does that mean he’s going to Lawrence High, too?”

That is not exactly Castiel’s area.

“Okay, well, I can look him up…” He searches around for a student-parent contact book. “Uh…no way he’s gonna be listed under ‘Lucifer,’ is there?”

“I believe he has the surname ‘Milton.’”

Dean flipped through the pages, “Milton? Doesn’t seem very Satan-y.” He skimmed his finger through the “M” section, “Here--Nick Milton.” He squinted at it. “Yeah, no, doesn’t sound like the devil to me, but, whatever.”

“The others will want him.” Castiel was telling him something very important, trying to suggest their course of action without actually saying it.

Dean was pretty good at reading this now. Sometimes, he’d wonder which of them was slower at picking up on the other’s cues, but, all in all--you know, what with the whole being of entirely different species--they seemed to read each other well. They’d actually fallen into a fairly comfortable pattern, even if Dean didn’t like to really examine their relationship too hard.

“So, what? Are we supposed to kidnap him?”

“Both sides will want him. We have to move quickly if you don’t want the angels or demons to use them.”

“Fuck that, let’s go. I’ll let Sam know.”

~

Zachariah arrived at the Milton residence at 12:36pm on a Tuesday. Some of his cronies had gone ahead to check the place out, but there seemed to be no sign of his fallen brother. He wasn’t sure what Lucifer’s human form would look like, but it wasn’t as if it mattered.

It seemed, to his outrage, that demons had arrived there first though, breaking in and searching the place without any care or caution--leaving Lucifer’s human parents irreparably damaged, bleeding out all over their nice, cream-colored middle class carpets.

Well…he probably had the power to fix them, but he preferred to put them out of their misery--not himself, of course, but the others did as he told them. It was best for the filthy little mud monkeys to be out of the way. This was not their fight, after all.

He needed the devil to start the apocalypse and his being “human” was putting a definite cramp in Zachariah’s style. Having grown up as a kid on Earth could’ve even given Lucifer _feelings_ for his new family. That was not part of the plan.

So, taking them out of the picture really was best.

No need for unnecessary attachments.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam’s phone went off in the middle of his American history class. He scrabbled to silence it and smiled apologetically at his teacher. Although she was fairly strict, she knew Sam had family problems and yet he’d still been an excellent student, so she let him get away with things that would’ve gotten others into trouble.

Sometimes Sam felt bad about the fact that he’d get special treatment, but, really…there were extenuating circumstances.

He got annoyed sometimes at Dean for just simple inattention to his schedule, but at the same time, every time he saw his brother’s number light up on a screen, and not the hospital or the police station, it was reassuring.

He waited until the teacher turned her attention to the board and slid his phone into his lap, hidden mostly from view by his desk. He typed out a message, a simple _What?_

Then checked to make absolutely certain his phone wouldn’t so much as vibrate.

He then half-paid attention waiting for the reply—it didn’t take long: _find nick milton. sophomore. we’re on our way._

That…sounded sort of crazy, but, then again, that was his life. He checked the clock and drummed his fingers on the desk. About ten minutes left. Leaving now would not go over well, but those few moments could be very important, for all of the vagueness he knew.

Sam wondered if he should even try taking more notes.

~

“God, I hate traveling Angel Airlines.” Dean let out the breath he didn’t know why exactly he was holding.

The angel ignored his comment, focusing instead down the school’s hallway. “There are demons.”

Panic struck the hunter, swift and harsh, “In the kids?” He hoped to a god he didn’t believe in that it wasn’t the case. He’d killed a lot of things, young ones—things that looked like (and _were_ ) children—included, but he’d do his damnedest not to kill any kids who’d happened to have gotten caught up in this mess.

Castiel narrowed his eyes, angel-killing blade slipping down his sleeve into the tight grip of his fist, “No, but we’ve got more than that to worry us.”

A few teenagers in the hallway seemed to sense that this was not the time or place to test their odds. The sheer authority of adults present might not have done it, but, even Dean had to admit, Castiel looked quite imposing.

Dean was pretty sure Sam’s classroom was right around here—besides the vague familiarity from when the various times he’d had to get his brother out of class, Cas tended to keep them close, if he could. He started peeking through the windows of doors, hoping for a glimpse of Sam’s gangly limbs. About three classrooms down, Dean heard the flutter of wings and tensed, knowing it wasn’t Castiel.

He heard the scuff of shoes and turned in time to see Castiel slamming his blade through the throat of one of his brothers, a blinding whiteness swelling out of him, and Dean had just enough sense to cover his eyes before it erupted full blast. Chatter in the classrooms increased, curiosities piqued, and he watched the body fall to the ground after the slick sound of the blade’s removal.

Two wings ashed across the floor and partway up the wall opposite him.

This was not going to be as covert as they had hoped.

Before he could even catch his breath again, a door was opening and he was waxing between the tenseness he felt and attempting to look normal and/or appalled.

A gust of relief swept through him as he saw Sam appear in the doorway, coming out and closing it swiftly behind him. The teenager glanced from his brother down to the body, “What the fuck, Dean?”

“We gotta hurry, Sammy.” The older Winchester then motioned towards Cas, “Can you do something about this?”

The angel nodded and crouched down next to the body. With a touch of his fingers, the other angel—vessel—was gone, along with the feathery outlines it had left upon its demise.

Sam inhaled deeply. This was not the kind of shit he expected to go down _here_. He didn’t have time to think too hard on it though as a demon rounded the corner, black eyes and fast limbs approaching.

It took a swing at Dean, who was closer, before the the hunter managed to stab up into its chest, reddish electricity bursting out of the thing. Castiel quickly took care of the body with another press of skin.

“Fuck, come on, come on,” Dean hissed and they ran farther down the hall.

“Wait.”

They stopped and turned to Sam.

“This is a sophomore class. Worth a try?” He composed himself into the respectable student Dean knew he’d be full-time if not for their lifestyle.

He calmly opened the door and all eyes turned on him, the teacher giving him a curt, but curious, “Yes?”

“Um.” That was not a good start, but he’d pulled back his shoulders and continued with an air of confidence, projecting some sort of authority in the matter, “Is there a Nick Milton here?”

The teacher looked up, across the classroom, “Nick?”

A boy with short, blonde hair near the back of the room raised his hand. “Am I in trouble?”

He couldn’t believe his luck. This was the only class he’d known for sure had been sophomores and there he was. He was surprised at Nick’s appearance, but he’d consider the teenager more fully when they were a little further out.

Sam pursed his lips in thought for a second, unsure of what to say, before a simple, truthful thought came to him, “Well, we’ll see. Come with me.”

The class made noises of amusement. The boy turned red and stood, glancing back at his belongings in question.

“You know, the period’s about to end, bring your things,” Sam told him.

Nick looked towards the teacher, who simply nodded, before shuffling towards Sam, who quickly swung the door open for him.

The Winchester gave the instructor a polite smile and closed the door behind them just as fast.

Time seemed to slow even as panic rose in all parties, Nick taking in the sight of Dean and Castiel and they in turn examining him.

Castiel’s nostrils flared, “Lucifer.”


	4. Chapter 4

Nick spun around, hoping to see someone behind him—and at the same time very much hoping the supposed devil had not snuck up on him—but saw nothing, his face twisted in confusion, “What?”

Castiel was on high alert, focus shifting away from the teenager and gave Dean a hard look, “They’re coming.”

“No time to explain,” Dean’s voice was gruff but he offered Nick an apologetic grin.

Sam tried to offer him a look something close to comforting, “Sorry about this.” With that, he grabbed the boy’s hand. Castiel pressed his fingers to the Winchester’s forehead and they were gone.

The angel turned to Dean, about to send him away to safety, as well, but the hunter held up his hands in refusal. “I can hold them off,” he reasoned.

“Nah, I’m not leaving you here to die. We’ll clear the first wave, then we’ll both get out of here.” He smiled that cocky smile at Cas and readied his knife.

The halls were suspiciously empty, but Dean could see faces pressed to the windows of classrooms and hear the jarring of doorknobs. He sent Cas a questioning look.

“I’ve sealed them in, they’ll return to normal when I leave.”

“Awesome.”

As the word left his mouth, he ducked to avoid the fist of a demon, sinking his knife into its abdomen and giving it a sharp twist. The first ones were usually the easiest.

With the palms of his hands pressed to their foreheads, Castiel smote another two, but now there were angels—three of them.

“Cas!”

The angel in question turned and Dean rolled out of the way to distract one of the others, hoping their concentration was focused elsewhere and not on maintaining those impenetrable defenses he hated so much. When his fist landed in an angel’s stomach and it actually backed up a step, it was extremely, thankfully satisfying. Then, a hit landed on his back and he was sent hard into the floor, his knife clattering and sliding away. There was a flash of light somewhere behind him.

He flipped over in time to see knuckles connect with his jaw before something stuck sharp through the angel’s chest and that same searing whiteness flooded out. He shut his eyes tight and could still hear the sounds of grunting and the pounding of flesh, the swift swish of a blade. He opened his eyes to see it nick Castiel’s abdomen and worry tightened its grip around his heart.

He secured his feet to the floor and flipped himself up. He was not going to let Cas die, not now. He wouldn’t even know what to do without him here—or if there was even a chance he’d be able to get out of this alive without the angel’s assistance.

It seemed as if the others were still unaware of their location and Dean was glad for small miracles. He threw himself at the attacking angel’s side, distracting him, saving Cas, as his friend stumbled back, wearied. Dean snatched an angel blade from the floor and thrust it deep into the angel’s chest, scrambling off of the body as it began to glow.

He was still on his knees, but he allowed himself a shaky breath before turning his attention to Cas, “Let’s go.”

The angel’s mouth hung agape, blood marring his bottom lip down to his chin, and gave only the slightest of nods, pressing two fingers to Dean’s forehead.

~

Sam and Nick arrived back at the house about a second after Castiel sent them. That was the beauty of angel-assisted travel, even when Dean was constantly insisting it didn’t _feel_ right.

Nick staggered back and examined his surrounding, eyes wide in shock, “What the fuck? Where the fuck are we? What just happened?”

Sam was starting to assume the kid had no idea who he was, who he was _supposed_ to be. It was both a relief and a giant fucking concern to think that Nick wasn’t Lucifer, or, at least, was unaware of the possibility. “Um. It’s hard to explain…” he started, and looked at the kid more closely.

He wasn’t scrawny like Sam would’ve thought at first--pretty average, really. He was a bit shorter than Sam, but, hey, since Sam had hit that growth spurt last summer it was rare to find someone who _wasn’t_. He just seemed…well, normal.

Nick was nothing like what Sam would have ever pictured the most famous of fallen angels to look like.

“Try me.” His head and heart were racing each other to see which would bring him down first. “Who are you? Why did that guy in the coat call me _Lucifer_?”

“Look,” he tried to use his height authoritatively, “we needed to get you out of there. There were some…people coming for you. Bad guys.”

Nick’s expression remained unimpressed, “How do I know _you’re_ not the bad guys? I mean, you just fucking _kidnapped_ me.”

“I’m…I’m really sorry about all this.” Sam couldn’t believe he was apologizing to the devil. He held out his hands placatingly, “Really, if there was another way, we wouldn’t have done it. _Believe_ me.”

“Why should I?” The teen took a step closer, on the offensive, “You haven’t told me a damn thing yet—not _really_.”

“You want the truth?” Sam asked, guilt and annoyance vying for his attention.

“Yes.” The boy was angry and Sam couldn’t hold his own emotions back from rising to meet Nick’s.

“Angels and demons are after you.” He hoped that was a satisfactory answer. He didn’t particularly want to be the one to give this talk. He didn’t even _know_ the details--just that Lucifer was on Earth and Nick Milton might be him based on the way things had played out. No one had told him that specifically, either, he’d just pieced it together as they’d run through the school.

“What? Why?”

The younger Winchester had always been full of sympathy and understanding, he really didn’t _want_ to hurt anyone. “They, uh, think you’re someone they can use.”

“You mean Lucifer?”

Sam nodded resignedly.

Nick’s brows furrowed, “Even if I did believe you--which I _don’t_ \--how could I be the devil?”

“I…don’t know, okay?” He sighed. “I really am sorry…but, it’s true.”

The boy was quiet a moment, the sincerity of Sam’s words hitting him hard. “I’m gonna need more answers than that.”

“Let’s start over,” the Winchester tried more calmly. He offered out his hand, “Hi, I’m Sam.”

Nick shook it with uncertainty, “I’m Nick. But it seems like everyone else knows me as Lucifer.”


	5. Chapter 5

The boy had hoped the words would come out as a joke, lighten the mood a little, and he smiled, but when Sam half-grimaced in response before attempting a (very faked) laugh as consolation, the gravity hit him. “You-- you really think I’m _him_? Satan? The morning star? The fucking _devil_?”

Sam tried to remain neutral on the subject, “Well…”

“So, your answer is ‘yes,’ then?” Nick paced towards the back window. “Alright, great. Perfect.”

The Winchester approached him and stopped short, “I know this whole thing is fucked up. Um, is there anything I can do for you?”

“I wanna see my mom and dad.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I mean, you don’t want to drag them into this, do you?”

“No, but…” Nick hesitated. “Could you at least, I dunno, check on them?”

Sam frowned, “I--” There was the sound of wingbeats his brother appeared with Castiel. “Dean— Cas! You okay?” He rushed over to see his brother’s lip split, and there were sure to be bruises forming there over the next few hours. He’d seen much worse on Dean. He hadn’t, however, seen Castiel with so much as a scratch on him before. Besides the blood, there seemed to be light slipping and spilling from the angel’s abdomen.

“Is that how we got here?” the blonde boy interrupted.

Three pairs of temporarily distracted eyes turned their full attention to the cause of their most recent troubles.

Nick stepped back and gestured towards them, “That’s, uh, that’s pretty cool. But, really, uh…my parents…”

“I can check on them,” the angel volunteered.

“Alone?” Dean gave him a hard look, trying to hide his worry. “Cas, you’ve got… _you_ spilling out of you.” He pulled back the edge of Castiel’s suit jacket, blood on the ripped shirt and that light that was usually such a relief was pretty terrifying right now. His eyes strayed back up to Cas’s. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I’m fine, Dean,” the angel told him but the hunter knew him well enough to know he was lying.

“Cas…”

Sam and Nick looked at each other, and despite having known each other a half-hour, shared shy smiles at the way Dean and Cas were obviously occupying own little world.

Castiel’s fists clenched at his sides, unconsciously mirroring Dean’s. “I’ll heal.”

The older Winchester shook his head, sighing, “You better.”

In a blink, the angel was gone.

“Is he your boyfriend or something?”

Spluttering, Dean turned his attention to Nick and glared.

Sam answered him instead, “No, uh, don’t let the doe eyes fool you, they’re ‘friends.’” He couldn’t help the air quotes he used around the word and Dean punched him in the arm. “Ow! Fuck…” He rubbed at the spot.

The hunter opened his mouth to respond, but there was that fluttering sound and Castiel appeared.

The angel glanced first at Dean before turning to Nick, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” The teenager could already feel the tightening in his chest. “Do you mean…”

“They had already been found, by both sides. I don’t know which killed them.”

“No.”

Sam’s sympathy started brimming at the surface, “I’m so sorry.” He hadn’t really thought about it, but it wasn’t all that surprising.

“No, you’re lying. No. No, no, no.” Nick’s voice was shaking and he tried to keep it firm. “They’re fine. I need to go home. Take me home.”

Dean started towards him, “Look, kid…”

Sam held up a hand and moved in closer, hunching a little to make himself more accessible, “Nick…”

“Take me home.” His face was scrunched up and there were tears threatening to fall. He brought his hands up to hide behind, sniffling. “They’re fine, they’re fine…” he repeated.

The younger Winchester placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder and the boy flinched, but not away really. His heart ached for him. This was not a life to be thrust into like that—even if he was Satan.

“We’re gonna need to get out of here,” Dean interrupted and Nick’s teary eyes stared at him, appalled.

“Dean is right,” Castiel agreed. His mouth looked better, no blood there, but that disturbing glow leaked out from beneath his coat.

“Sammy, go grab your stuff, and, uh, I guess some things for Nick here.”

His younger brother sent Nick a sad smile before he was off.

“I—” Nick started.

“You’re coming with us, yeah.” He looked at his angel, “Cas, get him to the Impala.”

Castiel eyed the boy suspiciously, but did as Dean told him.

The hunter moved quickly to his room and grabbed the few things he didn’t already have packed away in his emergency bag. He snatched up a framed photo of John and Mary, giving it the slightest of wistful glances before shoving it into his duffel.

He met Sam at the doorway, “Ready?”

“For what?”

“Whatever new fuckin’ mess we’re getting caught up in.”

The younger Winchester shrugged, “Guess so.”

Dean slapped him on the back and pushed past him through the open door.

Sam took in one last, long look at the house he’d grown up in, the one his dad had moved them into after their mom had burned when he was just a baby. _Goodbye, old life._

~

Dean hadn’t entrusted Castiel with the keys to his car, but it made no difference as he opened what had been a locked door in the back of the car, watching closely as Nick hesitantly slid into the backseat.

The angel sat down on the other side, although it was only about a foot from him.

Nick was hyperventilating and Castiel cleared his throat, a social queue he’d picked up on one of the many occasions Dean wanted his attention without gathering everyone else’s.

“S-sorry,” the boy tried, holding his breath until he could normalize it enough to speak rather than sit in uncomfortable, sobbing silence. “You’re, uh, Cas, right?”

“Castiel,” the angel corrected tersely, his gaze focused firmly on the back of the passenger’s seat in front of him.

“Oh.”

Luckily, Sam and Dean returned before the moment went on too long.

The engine purred to life and they were on their way out of Lawrence without another word.


	6. Chapter 6

About forty minutes out, Sam turned around to check on Nick. The boy was slumped, still sniffling, but his expression was a hopeless, concentrated blank. He nudged his brother and with a look, Dean was pulling into the next gas station.

As soon as Dean stepped out of the car, Castiel was following him. The younger Winchester sat a moment, mulling over his options before he looked back to Nick again, “Hey, you, uh, wanna stretch your legs?”

Nick shrugged.

Sam shook his head and got out anyway, walking over to the other boy’s door and pulling it open, “Come on, let’s go get some chips or something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the Winchester replied and offered out a hand.

Nick eyed it skeptically and slid out of the car, carefully avoiding Sam’s touch.

Sam pulled his arm back to his side, fingers twitching into a fist. No big deal. The kid was traumatized. Sam wasn’t going to stop trying when he knew he’d just been a part of taking everything away from him. No, he hadn’t killed Nick’s parents, but that didn’t exactly help anything. He could be a friend to the guy, even if he was Lucifer.

He nodded his head towards the convenience store and headed in, aware that Nick was following him. That was a good sign, at least.

They wandered through the couple of aisles and to the sodas in the back. Although he refused drinks, too, when asked, Sam could see Nick eyeing a Dr. Pepper and picked one up for him, as well as an iced tea for himself and a Coke for Dean--it wasn’t his brother’s favorite, but Dean wasn’t exactly picky.

Nick didn’t protest and Sam smiled a little to himself. He liked people, which he considered Nick and Castiel, even if they weren’t, and he liked to help where he could. Even if that just meant buying Nick a drink.

He took a handful of crumpled dollars and change from his pocket and paid, handing Nick the Dr. Pepper as they walked out the doors.

“I lost my mom when I was just a baby, and then my dad about two years ago. Dean’s the only family I have.”

“Sorry,” Nick mumbled, fingers gripped tight around the bottle of soda.

“I’m fine now, but…I just want you to know that this whole thing _sucks_. My parents…they were killed by demons, too.” He tried to look at the boy without being seen doing so, just little glances as he allowed his hair to fall into his face a bit, waiting for any signs of reaction.

The teenager seemed a little surprised, but he mostly stayed quiet, taking shallow breaths that Sam is all too familiar with. Sixteen-year-olds shouldn’t be this accustomed to grief, but Sam was glad he could be there for him.

Nick finally twisted at the cap, the sizzling, frothing noise of the carbonation breaking the silence between them. “Thanks.”

~

Castiel stood stock still next to Dean as the hunter fed in his card and pulled out the gas pump.

The Winchester set the thing to fill and after a glance towards his brother and the devil boy, turned his attention harshly on Cas. “Show me.”

Castiel looked baffled, but Dean was pretty sure it was for show at this particular juncture.

Instead of explaining himself, the hunter pulled back the angel’s coat, where it had been closed in much further than usual. He could see the glow already. With a quick survey of their location to make sure no one was staring at them, he nimbly undid the bottom buttons of Castiel’s shirt and tugged up the corner of it. There was still light slowly, steadily pouring out of him.

“This is bad, Cas.” He fixed the angel with a stare.

“I’ll be fine.”

“So you say.”

Castiel didn’t reply.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No.”

But the answer was too quick and Dean’s curiosity piqued. “There is, isn’t there?” He smirked a little, allowed himself to, “What? Is it embarrassing?”

“It doesn’t matter,” the angel told him briskly, stepping out of Dean’s reach—which had generally become his preferred proximity.

“Cas…”

The pump clicked and Dean turned away, putting it back and screwing on the gas cap. Castiel was already moving to get into the backseat again and Dean shook his head. “You’re riding shotgun up front with me this time.”

The angel’s eyes flared, obviously hoping that little bit of distance would give him reprieve from Dean’s questions and worries. He stalked silently to the passenger side door and got in, Dean slipping into the driver’s seat next to him with a smug smile.

“'Sides, I think Sam’ll make better company for teen trauma back there.”

Castiel huffed, “He makes me uncomfortable.”

“Nick?” Dean shrugged. “I don’t know him, but he seems like a nice kid.” He squinted into the windshield before reverting his gaze to Castiel’s. “Hey, you gotta cut him some slack though. Losing your parents so sudden, that’s rough.”

“He’s _Lucifer_.”

As the word left the angel’s mouth, the two teenagers piled back into the car, Sam taking his new placement without any qualms.

Dean watched in the rearview mirror as Nick aimed the slightest of smiles towards his brother as Sam was distracted. As long as the kid didn’t remember who he was, it might be kind of nice to see Sammy hang out with someone his own age. Nick, for now, seemed pretty fucking harmless.

He started the car and headed out onto the road again, Sam making a noise only a moment later and handing him up a Coke.

Dean loved driving, but right now he was eager to get a little further along and stop at a hotel somewhere. He needed to check on Cas and it would give them ample opportunity to figure out what exactly was going on and who exactly Nick might be. There was a definite possibility it could get into that wishy-washy feelings crap, but he was sure Sam was equipped to handle it.

He just really didn’t want to think about any of that in more detail until they got there.

For now, he’d blast some AC/DC and speed along the highway at a rate well past legal limits until they were farther into Missouri.


	7. Chapter 7

When they checked in at the hotel, it was dark out. This had the benefit of no one having to have seen the hotel in the daylight. It was better that way.

Nick, so far, was taking things surprisingly well. Although obviously upset, the full brunt of his loss hadn’t hit him yet and thus his grief stayed contained.

“So,” Dean turned to the kid, “do you eat and sleep or…?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Nick responded, eyeing the two double beds and the other three of them.

The older Winchester pointed his thumb in Castiel’s direction, “He doesn’t.”

“Oh.” Nick shrugged and stared at the beds again. “So, uh, who’s going to be sleeping where…?”

Dean opened his mouth to answer before closing it again. He hadn’t exactly thought this through, but he’d always figured the non-life-threatening things would just figure themselves out. He wasn’t going to get another room… They didn’t want Nick to be alone for a plethora of reasons and Dean boarding with him would be crazy levels of awkward. Sam, maybe…but just in case something went _wrong_ —as things tended to do whenever Winchesters were involved—he didn’t want to even _think_ about Sam alone for the night with that kid. Not yet, at least. Maybe after they’d all been together a while and he could kind of trust him, if that ever were to happen.

He’d deal with the future implications later. For now, simply _beds_.

Luckily for him, Sam had already thought of a solution, “Dean, we can share like when I was little and Nick can have the other bed.”

Dean didn’t exactly relish the idea of sleeping in the same bed as his teenage brother, but whatever worked. “Alright.” He turned his attention to the angel standing by the wall, tense and staring at Nick suspiciously. He spoke instead to the boys again though, “If you’ve got sensitive, virgin eyes, it might be best to turn your backs.”

“Are you two gonna fuck?”

No one bothered to answer him this time, although Sam had to concentrate hard on not laughing, and possibly high five-ing him.

“Cas, take off your shirt.”

The angel’s movements were slow and uncertain as he gingerly removed his coat and worked the buttons from their holes. Dean had to stop himself from helping since watching Cas undress the way he did was borderline pathetic. The guy obviously had no idea what to do, dropping his clothes down in a rumpled pile on the less-than-clean hotel carpet.

In a way, he was glad for the wound. It gave him the chance to see what was under all those loose clothes while also distracting him from looking at his chest too long. It was a fairly long slash across the angel’s taut stomach and it didn’t seem to have gotten any better.

The energy glared at him and reminded him of his many failures as a protector. It wasn’t that Castiel necessarily needed protecting, Dean just didn’t know what else his purpose could be if not killing evil and protecting people (and Cas).

He reached out and pressed his fingers to it, feeling along the edges. It wasn’t noticeable until he was actually touching the light that it was _hot_ , burning almost, and he withdrew his hand as his sense of self-preservation kicked in. “Fuck. Sit down on the bed.”

“Why?”

“Would you just do it, Cas? For me?” His worry came out as frustration, but Castiel obeyed anyway.

Nick’s elbow nudged Sam’s arm and covered the side of his mouth as if telling him a secret. Once Sam looked at him though, all he did was mouth, “Gay.”

The younger Winchester shook his head in admonishment, but he was smiling.

The two continued to watch the continuing would-they-or-wouldn’t-they adventures of Dean and Cas (which after only a few hours, Nick felt invested in). Physical wounds edition.

“What do you need me to do?” Dean asked, trying to keep his tone on the lighter side of serious.

“Nothing, Dean.”

“Cas.”

“I could be healed through contact with a human soul, but that’s not an option.”

Dean watched Castiel’s borrowed muscles flex and hoped his mouth hadn’t been hanging open long. It was just so…different. A year and a half and he’d never seen so much as a forearm. All that exposed skin was shocking his tired brain. “Why not?”

“If I don’t do it properly, it could kill someone.” _Kill you_ , he didn’t say, but they both knew what he meant.

“I don’t care. I trust you, Cas.”

“No, Dean.” The angel remained seated on the bed, but it felt like something had sparked in the air—something powerful and frightening.

That didn’t stop him. “Well, why the hell not?”

“No. I’m not going to risk you or anyone.”

Dean took a step back, rubbing his eyes, “Yes, you are, Cas. I don’t mean to go all chick flick on you here, but I’m worried, alright? It’s been hours and that looks just as bad now if not worse.”

“ _No_.”

“Is there anything else, maybe?” Sam broke in, the tension between his brother and the angel crackling through the room, hanging densely around them.

“It’s possible it will heal.” Dean rolled his eyes and Castiel continued, “The only other option would be if another angel were to heal me, but as you know, I’m not exactly on…good terms with Heaven.”

The older Winchester felt a little twinge of guilt at having turned Castiel against his family, but, seriously, fuck those guys. They were all dicks. “None of them maybe, uh, owe you a favor or anything?”

Castiel shook his head.

“Um.” Nick cleared his throat, “I know it seems we’ve spent half of today carefully avoiding the subject, but wasn’t the whole reason you guys kidnapped me because I was Lucifer?” He was met with stares. He wondered what it was about him opening his mouth that made everyone else shut theirs, but that wasn’t the point right now. “Lucifer…was an angel once, right?”


	8. Chapter 8

Dean looked from Nick to his brother to the angel on his bed, a little bubble of hope floating into his chest. “Would that work?”

Sam shrugged, eyes wide, “Worth a try, right?” They hadn’t seen any actual signs of non-humanity from Nick yet, no sign there was any grace—tattered and hard to find or brilliant and just below the surface—in there at all.

Castiel was stiff, the Winchesters could watch every muscle of that body tensing at the idea of being healed by Lucifer, as if it might tarnish him further. However, he also knew that if something could fix him, it was unlikely Dean would let him refuse. After all, if he refused to try with Lucifer—Nick, he told himself, as if he could pretend—then Dean would insist he heal the other way, the way that would risk Dean’s life. He was unwilling to do the latter, not now, so he nodded. “It’s possible.”

The thing was, even Castiel couldn’t see his grace, not clearly. He could just sense the gentle thrum of energy, warm and inviting, coming from the boy. He was drawn to it, but, all the while, everything in him screamed, _That’s Lucifer. The fallen. The morning star. Do not be tempted._

“How would I…?” Nick gestured between them. “I mean, I’ll give this a shot, but I don’t exactly know what I’m supposed to be doing here.”

Sam contributed, “Um.”

“Cas?” Dean queried.

“Come over here,” the angel told him, discomfort at the distance closing between them pushed aside for the moment.

Nick did so with an amount of confidence they hadn’t seen from him so far, which had made a lot of sense considering that his life had been utterly destroyed in less than a day. It seemed as if them not trying to kill him—although the angels had a much worse plan for him than that—had sort of been enough to let him relax a little. He stood right in front of where Castiel was seated on the bed, watching the light slither from him. Yeah, he was definitely going to be a believer after this. “Alright. Now what?”

Castiel leaned back, arms behind him and palms pressed flat to the bedspread, to give him better access. “Place your hand on the wound.”

As Nick’s hand hovered closer, he began to feel the heat, but he pressed on. “What do I—”

“Push me back in, use your own energy to seal it,” the angel explained.

“I still have no idea what the fuck you mean,” but he pressed down, closed his eyes like they always did in movies to concentrate. “I don’t—” He felt something then, something moving through him, he opened his eyes and watched the glow dim and disappear, his hand still hot as the flesh sealed over it. “Whoa.” He pulled his hand back and stared at it.

His eyes slipped closed. There were memories now that hadn’t been there before, flashes of something that looked nothing like Earth. There was bright, comforting light in some and terrifying darkness in others. There was someone calling his name. He didn’t know how he knew it was his name, it wasn’t in any language he knew, but somehow… Nick shook his head and looked around him, Sam and Dean both staring at him as if he’d grown a second head.

Dean’s mouth hung open for a moment before he could speak, “Well, I guess we found the right guy.” He approached cautiously, getting a better look at the now fully-healed angel. It was as if nothing had happened to him. No scars. Nothing. He gave the boy a slap on the back, “Good job.” He held his tongue and stopped himself from calling him Lucifer.

“Yeah. Uh,” Nick squeezed his eyes shut and blinked them open again. All those images, those voices. He was…not going to think about it right now. “No problem.”

While Dean snatched the angel’s clothes from the floor and Cas stood up, Sam focused in on Nick, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Nick answered quickly before shaking his head again, “I mean, my parents are dead and I just confirmed the fact that I’m Satan, but other than that, perfectly fine.”

“Really?” Sam needled.

He nodded, flexing his fingers.

Castiel, with a little help from Dean, had dressed again. His eyes were wide, slightly terrified, which the Winchesters had never really seen from him. Even up against his older brothers and sisters, Cas hadn’t wavered.

The older Winchester looked at him, then inclined his head toward Nick, raising his eyebrows and hoping Castiel would pick up on his queue. This one, apparently, was going to need more work. “He healed you. That’s worth a point in my book.”

The angel looked at him uncertainly for a second before nodding in understanding, “Yes.” He turned his gaze to Nick, “Thank you.”

Nick turned towards him, “Like I told your boyfriend, no problem.”

Castiel could see it now, emanating from his eyes and buzzing beneath the surface of his skin. His grace had been reawakened. It was power, what had once been Lucifer’s entire being, and it was no longer hidden. Lucifer was much more powerful than he was. He could guess that Nick was starting to feel it, too.

“Dean.”

“Yeah, Cas?” He stopped himself from straightening Castiel’s tie.

“I need to speak with you.”

“Alright. What?”

“Not here.” Without a question, Castiel placed two fingers to his forehead and they were gone.

Sam watched with curiosity. He turned his attention back to Nick, “Any idea what that was about?”

Nick shrugged, “I might have some ideas.”

Rolling his eyes, the Winchester tried again, “Any you wouldn’t mind sharing?”

“Maybe the fact that I’m Lucifer.”

“Okay. How is that news?”

The boy pulled back his shoulders and stretched, feeling something connected to him flex, something he knew Sam couldn’t see. He felt power shifting under the surface of his skin, but it wasn’t foreign, it was just…him. All of him. Flesh and bone and muscles and grace all intertwined. It was strangely familiar. “Because now _I_ know it.”


	9. Chapter 9

If Sam was frightened, he didn’t show it. “Oh.” It was simple and said nothing while still acknowledging the statement. He didn’t really know how to react to that.

“It’s not like I remember everything,” Nick amended. “I can feel it though, sense it.”

“So, uh, is this a vessel? Like Cas?”

The teenager—fallen angel, whatever he was—shook his head, “No. This is mine. Wholly and completely. Nick and Lucifer…I’m both.”

“This is kind of…sudden.”

“Don’t I know it. I don’t know that I even _like_ knowing it, but now all that information is jammed in my head. I can’t exactly ignore it.”

Sam nodded and smiled tentatively, “Well, at least you know why they after you.”

“Not really.” He rubbed at his chin. “I mean, I don’t really know anything about them or what they wanted from me, just about…well, me.”

“To be honest, that’s kind of a relief,” Sam let out a long breath. “Don’t get me wrong, I just would like the chance to convince you _not_ to start the apocalypse.” His lips twitched into semi-forced smile to make the statement less serious. It was likely unsuccessful.

Nick’s brows knit together, “Why would I want that in the first place?”

Running his fingers through his hair, the Winchester replied, “Well, everyone else seems to.”

“Hey, I’m still human.” He smirked, “Well, sort of.”

~

“What the hell, Cas?” He glanced around the room. It looked like an abandoned office building, the lights of the whole floor—if not more—flickering on.

“I could see him.” 

“What?”

“Lucifer. I could see him.”

“Yeah, and…?” Dean raised an eyebrow at the angel. The guy seemed to state the obvious, quite a lot still.

Castiel glared, “I could see all of him.”

“Gross,” Dean responded automatically. He squinted. “Wait, do you mean his…Satan-ness or whatever?”

“His grace, yes.”

“I’m guessing that’s a bad thing since you mojo’d me off to tell me. Where the fuck are we anyway?” He swiped his finger through the dust on the surface of a desk, leaving a clean line that only made the collection of debris more apparent.

“Northern Washington.”

“Why here?”

“I didn’t want us to be…overheard."

 Dean did not take that the wrong way. No, he didn’t. Shut up, subconscious. He licked his lips. Damn it. Looking away from Castiel—because they were friends, okay, _friends_ , the guy was a frigging _angel_ —he cleared his throat. “Alright, so what do we do about it? The, uh, Lucifer thing.” He would not blush. He was a grown man. He was just…confused. From the worry he had earlier. Yeah, that must be it.

This was business now though.

“Since his grace has been released, we must protect him. Any contact with the others could turn him against us.”

“I don’t know, Cas. I mean, he really does seem like a normal kid. Yeah, a bit of a smart-ass, but, come on…” He chuckled. “Who am I kidding? It’s us. You and two Winchesters? No way this isn’t gonna all go to hell and fast.”

“I would expect nothing less, at this point.” The angel’s voice was even more gravelly than usual.

Castiel’s views nowadays generally fluctuated between pessimistic and downright hopeless. Dean wondered if that was his fault, too. What Dean knew and couldn’t wrap his mind around, was that Cas chose _him_ over everything else. Despite his own constant reminder that Castiel chose this path to save _humanity_ , the way the angel looked at him, spoke to him, said different. In fact, Cas had told him those exact words: “This is for you, Dean.” That had definitely freaked him out. He tried not to show it, but…that was a lot of pressure for a human being. Not to mention the fact that it brought up a lot of feelings Dean didn’t think he was ready to face.

The hunter sighed, “We should probably get back. We just left Sam alone with the devil. What couldn’t go wrong there?”

“I apologize.” He stepped forward, hand stretching out towards the man.

“And, Cas? Next time, just ask and we can find somewhere to talk without you zapping me to who-knows-where.”

He wasn’t sure if Castiel got the message, but there was a warm press of fingertips to his temple and the next second they were back in the motel room.

~

Nick used one arm to stretch the other behind his head, “Is it weird that I’m tired?”

The younger Winchester shrugged, “How am I supposed to know? Maybe since you grew up human…uh, old habits die hard?”

“I guess.” He looked down at his jeans and over to the bed. “So…normally I sleep in boxers, but I kind of just met you guys and I’m not exactly looking to give you a peep show. No offense. You seem perfectly lovely and all.”

Sam snorted. The guy was much more playful now, somewhat sarcastic, but, to be honest, he kind of liked it. He unzipped his bag and rooted through it a second, finding a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. He wadded them up and tossed them over to Nick, who only minimally fumbled the catch.

This exchange had barely finished when Dean and Castiel materialized in the room again.

“Generally, you don’t want to be so obvious when you go off for a quickie. Just FYI,” Nick told them, shaking his pajama-occupied hand at them. He disappeared off to the bathroom, as modesty, unlike tact, was something he possessed.

“Yeah, yeah. How are things here?” Dean focused on his brother.

“Fine. More than that, even.” The younger Winchester smiled. “Actually, we were kinda thinking sleep might be a good idea.”

Nick returned, tossing his jeans on top of his backpack. The pajama pants were a bit long on him, but that didn’t mean uncomfortable. In fact, it was strangely reassuring, like wearing your parents’ clothes. He opened up the covers of the bed he’d decided to claim and sat on the edge. He could almost pretend he was at a friend’s house or on a trip with his family were it not for the fact all of that was gone.

“What are you gonna do, Cas?” Fairly shameless, Dean stripped off his jeans as he spoke.

The angel stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, “I’ll keep watch.”

“Alright. No dream-surfing tonight, okay?” His question, although rhetorical, was met with a nod. He slipped into the bed he was sharing with Sam, his younger brother already wriggling under the covers in an attempt to find a position that worked for him.

Hotels were basically a second home to the Winchesters, their dad having taken them on hunts whenever he could. It was almost comforting.

Dean reached for the lamp’s switch, “Tomorrow, we’ll call Bobby.”

With a click, the room was drowned in darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

Nick dreamt.

He had rebelled and God’s wrath came down in the form of Michael. The archangel he had once been so close to, as he had most of his siblings, but him more than any of the others. His older brother fought him, pushed him down, sent him deep below Heaven and Earth and into the pit. The bright light of home was long past him now as he fell.

The details of it were fuzzy, filled with pain and malice and the need for destruction, until he found himself in Hell. It was dark and lonely and he would fill it up with abominations to spite his Father. Humans were eager to go, greedy and conniving, no help from him required. They would twist and corrupt their own souls, hungry. They wanted revenge. They wanted what others possessed. They wanted power. They wanted so much and they would do anything for it.

It was disgusting, but he’d use them anyway. His Father had created them to populate the Earth, so, why not throw a few of his own back in? They were human once.

Eons of development on this planet just to evolve into this.

Humanity was ugly and hateful and as he observed them, his love for his Father turned to vengeance. He would never stop loving God, he was built for it, but rather…he would take advantage where he could. Even from the locked cage he’d been imprisoned in.

He watched as people destroyed each other and their own souls, pleased only because they were so favored and yet so very flawed.

Hell smelled more of sulfur and rotting flesh, skin being burnt from its bones. They had done this to themselves, all they’d needed was a bit of power to start with.

~

He awoke with a start and panicked. He looked over to see Sam and Dean in the bed a couple of feet from him. Dean was on the side closer and somehow, he knew that was to protect his younger brother if anything went awry.

Sam’s long leg was thrown over the covers and Lucifer— _Nick_ , he told himself—couldn’t see that thing he hated in Sam. He thought hard on it, and then, as if an illusion, he could see something glowing inside of Sam’s chest, something bright and pure. With a jolt, he realized it was his soul.

He didn’t want those things to happen to Sam, who had done nothing but try to make the situation easier on him, who wanted to convince him humanity was worth saving.

Noticing Castiel in the corner, he wondered if the angel knew of his thoughts and dreams.

He needed to get out. He needed—

Nick was no longer in the hotel room, but out in the middle of a field. This was not good.

He didn’t know how to get back to them. He didn’t know where they were, but alone now, he realized he’d much rather have their company than none at all. At the same time, he didn’t want to risk them, but his selfishness pushed that thought aside. He’d help them, he told himself, if only to stay with them.

Although he couldn’t remember it, he must have chosen a human life for a reason, not just to hide himself away. After all, he _could_ remember that hatred, that desire to rid the Earth of their filth, so why would he have become one, even partially?

Yes, he must’ve changed his mind, right? He was safe to be around, he reasoned to himself.

Now, however, he had no idea how to find them. Try as he might, he couldn’t sense them, locate them. Fear gripped tight in his stomach as he surveyed his surroundings--nothing but nature, and his own phone was back in the hotel room, not that he knew their phone numbers.

Then, he thought back to the room, of the angel— _younger brother_ , his mind supplied. He didn’t exactly know how to communicate with the angels, nor did he want to try and accidentally have to face anyone but Castiel.

He guessed the human way was worth a try. “Castiel, I’m, um, praying you’ll come find me. I don’t know where I am and I could really use the help.” _This is stupid_ , he couldn’t help thinking. He waited another second, having seen no sign of the angel. Nothing around him but tall grass and trees. “Cas?” he tried.

There was a sound like tearing and fluttering that was almost becoming familiar, despite the fact that it had only been a day. “What is it?”

Castiel’s voice was gruffer than when he spoke to the Winchesters. It had been in the hotel room, but even more so now. The angel had obviously hesitated in responding to his call. He was stiff and uncomfortable around him, not that Nick had seen him relax, exactly, not even in Dean’s company. The angel also kept his distance from him, unlike his personal space problems with the older Winchester.

“Sorry, I just…don’t know how to get back. I tried, you know, sensing for them or whatever, but…no luck.”

“I carved into their ribs to make them undetectable, to protect them.”

Nick could tell that this was a test of sorts, that Castiel was a guardian to the Winchesters. He didn’t want to let anyone hurt them if he could help it. He wanted to prevent the chance and Nick’s presence was a threat in itself.

Nick could understand. He couldn’t believe that he himself was already growing fond of them--well, Sam, mostly. “I’m not going to hurt them.”

“Why should I believe you?” The angel dared to step forward, the semblance of a threat behind it.

“Because…I grew up human. And I’m wearing Sam’s pajama pants.” He tugged out the sides to point out how utterly non-offensive he looked.

Castiel’s lip twitched up in the smallest indication of humor. “Humans have destroyed each other since their creation.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to.”

“You wish to join the Winchesters then?” He seemed to relax ever so slightly.

“Um. I’m not sure exactly what their cause is.”

“To prevent the apocalypse, to fight against fate for the sake of free will.” There was admiration in his voice when he spoke of Sam and Dean. Nick found it slightly endearing.

“Okay, makes sense. And what does the other side want?”

“Heaven wants to bring on the apocalypse, to end it all. The demons want the same.”

“Oh. Well, that sounds decidedly not good.” He held up his hands. “I think my decision’s been made.”

Castiel nodded, satisfaction in his features. “Dean calls us ‘Team Free Will.’”

Nick chuckled at that, but took a step towards the angel. “Alright. Where do I sign up?”


	11. Chapter 11

Zachariah did not like the fact the he hadn’t gotten a hold of Lucifer, but he hated that, by all accounts, his rebellious little brother had captured the devil instead.

His lackeys were off searching for him still. That didn’t mean much to Zachariah though.

He should’ve had him.

First, he lost the Righteous Man and now Lucifer. Things were not exactly going his way.

He stood in the empty, early morning halls of the high school. The smell of demons and death clung to the air. This was where the plan had gone wrong.

A hand gripped his shoulder and he turned to see Raphael, wearing a black man in his forties, thinner than his own vessel. He hadn’t seen Raphael’s vessel before, but there was no doubt in that powerful grace rippling from the man in front of him that he could be anyone else.

“In need of assistance, Zachariah?”

Zachariah sighed and put a hand to the back of his bald head. “You know how I hate to ask.” He grinned wolfishly and Raphael responded in kind.

This could be a wonderful partnership in the making.

~

Nick hesitated, “Hey, uh, Cas?”

The angel’s arm had been outstretched to return them to the Winchesters, but now it fell slowly back to his side. He would rather sort out any and all problems he could right away than return an unsure Lucifer to Sam and Dean’s sides. “Yes?”

“Since my grace was…released or whatever, am I going to become him again? I mean me, but…like I was before, I guess?”

“You’re Lucifer. You will always be Lucifer.” There was no question in his voice, no room for interpretation. It was a mere statement of fact, unchangeable and everlasting.

He felt his wings flex, tattered as they were, and nodded. “I think I’m starting to get that.”

“But,” Castiel added, seeing the signs of resignation in the boy’s--angel’s, devil’s, whichever--features, “you can make your own choices as to what you will do now. You have the chance to choose your fate.”

“Yeah.” Nick’s shoulders were still slumped. It was a nice idea, but he wasn’t sure how much someone could change. Some things were just…innate. Inevitable based on the nature of a being, on their memories and experiences. Although he couldn’t remember everything, there was enough there to tell him some horrible truths about himself.

He had been reborn though, literally, and given this mixed bag of humanity to deal with in himself, too. Maybe that was the catalyst for lasting change. He could only hope.

“Lucifer.”

He responded immediately to the name, looking to Castiel.

Could he really be both Nick Milton and Lucifer? There was no question that he had been one and then the other, but perhaps he needed to choose, at least in name. He had been Lucifer for eons and yet there was a certain attachment to being Nick. He’d need to think it over.

All of these thoughts flickered through his mind in the blink of an eye and the angel in front of him had readied himself again, reaching out towards him. “We should return before they wake up.”

With a touch, they were out of the field and back in the hotel room.

Lucifer hadn’t realized how cold he’d been, and maybe that wasn’t something he _needed_ to pay attention to anymore, but the room felt nice after that time outside.

He smiled at Castiel in thanks and thought about curling back up in his bed, hoping for a bit of more restful sleep than he’d gotten. The clock on the nightstand told him it was 6:13 in the morning. “Are they gonna be up soon?” he asked the angel, who shook his head. “I’m gonna go back to sleep then.” He slipped in under the covers. They had cooled in his absence but seemed to heat up quickly enough. He snuggled down into the bed and closed his eyes. “Thanks, Castiel. Really.”

With that, Nick let himself drift back off to sleep, worry still knotted in his gut but grateful for the small amount of relief and understanding he’d been granted.

Castiel was having trouble with the fact that he was now on the same side as Lucifer, but if his brother, partially human as he was, could be loyal to their cause, then, in its way, it helped the Winchesters. Lucifer had power Castiel couldn’t imagine bound up inside of him and preparing itself to leap forward. If he wanted to, he could likely protect Sam and Dean far better than Castiel ever could.

He had also put them into this situation. He was dangerous. That was why the angel kept in the back of his mind the knowledge that he could grab the Winchesters at any moment and hide them away long enough to maybe save them. Lucifer would not be able to track them, as none of the others could either. Even Castiel himself could not find them were he not already aware of their location, had not been called down by them.

Castiel watched Lucifer’s breathing slow, evening out in his sleeping state. It was hard to gauge his threat level when he looked so utterly human huddled under the blankets, no different than Sam or Dean.

Dean was drooling on his pillow with an arm underneath it. He was perfectly content, it seemed, even with his brother’s long limbs sprawled across the bed, settled on top of his own.

Castiel had grown to care so deeply for the two of them over less than two years here on Earth. His affection for Sam had developed as an extension of his feelings for Dean Winchester, but it was separate now, its own. They were both very important to him, having shown him more kinship in what was almost a blink of an eye from an angel’s perspective than his heavenly brethren had shown him in the entirety of his existence. Castiel knew this was because humans and angels felt differently and expressed themselves likewise, but it was hard to understand the disgust the Host felt for this type of behavior when it was so beautiful to him.

As long as he didn’t fall, emotions weren’t always such a bad thing.

He might not grasp the full extent of his feelings, but stemming from them was a simple fact: He wanted to remain at Dean’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I frustrate myself with how close Dean and Cas are to together. I mean, over 11,000 words and they're still not? What is wrong with me?


	12. Chapter 12

Sam was the first to awaken, only a little embarrassed at the way an arm and a leg draped themselves over his older brother. Dean wasn’t conscious to make any comments about it, so it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like Castiel cared.

He pulled his limbs back in and grabbed his cellphone from under his pillow. 8:35am. It was later than he had hoped to wake up. He could call Bobby himself, but he had a feeling Dean would like to contribute to the conversation.

The younger Winchester sat up, thinking briefly of the homework he’d never have the chance to turn in. Less than twenty-four hours since he’d had tests and colleges on his mind and now he knew he’d have to put those thoughts to the side for the time being. So would Nick, although Sam didn’t know whether, even if he’d thought about it in the first place, the devil would care.

He turned his attention to Castiel and gave him a small smile. “’Morning, Cas,” he said softly, knowing Dean could sleep through louder, yet wanting to allow Nick his options.

The angel nodded his greeting and, after a quick stretch--the sound of his popping vertebrae unseemly in the quiet of the room--Sam approached him.

“So…what’s up?”

When he used to pray, he never thought he’d say those words to an angel. They were too relaxed, too familiar, but then, so was Cas--well, maybe not exactly _relaxed_ , but less terse than he’d been when they’d met him. Castiel was sort of family now. Cas never said anything about it, even though Sam felt no qualms in making that clear, but the younger Winchester was pretty sure the angel liked it.

With a check of the bed Nick slept in and the assurance of his continued slumber, Castiel responded, “I spoke with Lucifer.”

  “And?” Sam usually isn’t having these “business” conversations with the angel, but he’d seen Dean do it a million times. Castiel seemed to require a lot of prompting, but he’d figured out the eyefucking was probably not mandatory. That was purely part of the whatever-it-was between his brother and the angel that no one was ready to talk about.

Castiel shifted, “He has agreed to be on your and your brother’s side.”

Sam was happy. He’d thought that Nick, Lucifer, whoever he was, deserved a chance, that he had some good in him. In fact, Sam had never seen anything to the contrary, but he knew there was a reason Lucifer was the devil, what his…history meant. He wasn’t delusional. He just also didn’t see the harm in allowing the guy (angel) an opportunity to make the right choices. It was no wonder Dean felt so protective of him, really.

He was pulled from his reverie when Castiel spoke again, “He seemed sincere, but I would advise caution. Lucifer isn’t known for...playing nice.”

Sam leaned in closer to the angel--but not Dean-and-Cas close. “Is he… _Lucifer_ -Lucifer again?” The angel didn’t quite grasp his meaning and Sam pressed on. “What I mean is…he’s still Nick, isn’t he?”

Castiel didn’t answer, eyes drawn to the figure emerging from beneath his covers. Sam whipped around to gauge the situation.

“Oh, hey, Ni--”

Waving his hand dismissively, Lucifer cut him off, “This two names thing is not working for me. My parents are dead and I assume I’m never going to see my friends again, not that I had many to begin with. You guys have known me…oh,” he faked looking at a watch he didn’t have, “less than a day. Nick is someone I’ll always be, but Lucifer is who I’ve always been. I don’t think any of you, including Sleeping Beauty over there, have any special attachment to Nick and, right now, that name is sort of associated with, oh, yeah, my dead parents. Not to mention my ruined life. Let’s stick with Lucifer.”

Before Sam and Castiel could speak--well, _nod_ in Castiel’s case--Lucifer was scrounging around in his backpack for something. He pulled out a slightly crushed granola bar and held it up victoriously, not wasting another second as he ripped it open and shoved near half of it into his mouth, holding it there with his teeth as he zipped his bag back up.

“We could go get breakfast, you know,” Sam told him.

Lucifer only shrugged in response, biting off a piece as he pulled the bar from his mouth.

Dean chose this moment to get up, grunting in greeting as he walked towards them.

“Finally up,” Sam quipped and his brother merely grunted again and ruffled his hair.

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but Dean gave him a pat on the shoulder and brushed past the three of them on his way to the bathroom.

The door shut, soon followed by the sound of a shower starting.

“That _bastard_.”

Sam looked at Lucifer in query.

“I wanted the first shower.” He kept an expression of annoyance a second before breaking out in a grin Sam couldn’t help but return, chuckling. “So,” he said, happy to have that power over the younger Winchester, “what’s the plan for today? Or is the general plan basically just ‘run’?”

“Pretty much. I think we’re going to call Bobby. If anyone knows anything that can help us, he does.”

“Hey, what about Cas over here? He has feelings, you know.” Lucifer took another bite of his granola bar, the thing nearly gone.

Sam’s face scrunched up in surprise, “I know that. Why would you care though?”

“I’m hurt,” the fallen angel replied sarcastically, “He _is_ my brother, after all.”

Castiel remained silent, watching the two boys--because that is what Lucifer was now, still, even with his grace.

Sam’s smile broadened across his face, laughing again, “Of course. You two had a little heart-to-heart this morning, right?”

“Eh, more or less.” He finished his granola bar and looked over to the angel, winking. Castiel seemed more confused than appreciative. Eyes back on Sam, he changed the subject back to where it should be going, “Who is this Bobby guy, anyway?”

“Old family friend. He knows about pretty much…everything.” The teenager shrugged, wishing he could have given a better explanation.

“Bobby Singer is an experienced hunter. I can’t say for sure if he’ll be able to help, but he’ll do whatever he can for the Winchesters,” Castiel told him.

“Right,” Sam agreed.

Lucifer looked at them both skeptically.

The water shut off and Dean stepped out in his boxers, toweling his head dry. “What did I miss?”


	13. Chapter 13

Sam stared at his brother a second, giving Lucifer the chance to escape to the bathroom and shower, grabbing his jeans from the day before.

“Lucifer--” Castiel began, only to be cut off by the younger Winchester.

“Is on our side. He and Cas talked and I guess he’s cool with us. Lucifer is…well, Lucifer. Oh, and as soon as I’ve showered, too, we’re gonna go get breakfast. I figured we could call Bobby after we ate.” He smiled at his brother, knowing Castiel’s explanation would not have included those last, very important details.

Dean blinked at him. “Awesome. I think I saw a diner on our way in.” With that, he went about dressing and Sam noticed Cas following a couple of steps before stopping to attempt stoicism.

One of the bonuses of having Lucifer around was the comments he made about his brother and the angel. Sam wondered how long it would take--or if it would _ever_ happen--before one of them would man up and admit they were totally in love and all that junk. He also, unfortunately, knew that Castiel was a virgin like himself, and, were that situation ever to arise, his brother would undoubtedly deflower an angel of the lord. This information was slightly discomforting.

He went about gathering his clothes from his duffel bag, wondering if Ni-- _Lucifer_ would want a clean shirt to wear or if lending him clothes was weird. He’d already lent him pajamas, so he figured it wasn’t _that_ bad. He got one out anyway, just a plain blue t-shirt he set on Lucifer’s bed, and waited for the shower to free up.

Lucifer emerged only a moment later, steam billowing out from the bathroom, and Sam quickly snuck past him without a word. He had dressed in the shower, but seeing that nice, clean shirt on his bed, he stripped off his own and changed. He knew it had to have been Sam’s. Damn, he really liked that guy.

He watched Castiel watch Dean. This was…awkward. “So, am I preventing you from getting busy?”

Dean chuckled and finally addressed the comments he’d been making, “Me and him,” he gestured between them, slightly surprised that they had somehow ended up so close again, “we’re not together.”

“Uh- _huh_.” He shoved his own shirt into his backpack. “And I thought I was human until a day ago.”

Smirking, the hunter pointed at Castiel, “Do you see this guy? Angel of the friggin’ lord and all?” Lucifer nodded. “Yeah. Not exactly the dating type. I mean, the guy’s a _virgin_ , alright?”

Lucifer made small circular motions around his head as if he was channeling something, brow furrowing in deep concentration. His eyes shot open, “Yeah, no, not buying it.” Dean opened his mouth, cocky smile in place, but the teenager continued, “I mean, the virgin thing, okay.” Castiel looked uncomfortable. “But there’s _definitely_ something going on between you two. Just ’cause you don’t know it yet doesn’t mean it’s not true. Like me and the being Satan thing.”

“You are so far off your reservation, kid.” He was _not_ “with” Castiel. He glanced at the angel again, the lack of space between them. Okay, that looked bad. He took a step away from him. That didn’t feel weird. Nope. He would ignore that strange tug in his chest. “We are not a couple.”

Face twisting and one eyebrow raised, he pointed to Castiel, “Does he know that?”

Before Dean could answer, Castiel did, “Of course.”

“Sure, that’s why you guys are constantly making moon eyes at each other.”

“We don’t--” Dean started defensively.

Lucifer held up his hands, “No, no, it’s fine. I get it. ‘Not a couple.’” His words were complete with air quotes.

The older Winchester glared, mind reeling as he tried to think of how to respond to that. He heard the water shut off. “Good. Because we’re _not_.”

“Mmmmhm.” Lucifer slipped on his shoes and began tying his laces.

Sam walked in, fully dressed, longer hair still dripping wet, “You guys ready?”

“Yup,” his brother responded, bag in hand, stalking to the door and throwing it open roughly. The angel wordlessly trailing behind him.

The younger Winchester turned to Nick, “What’s his problem?”

“No idea,” Lucifer told him in faked innocence.

Sam looked at him suspiciously and the other boy merely shrugged, grabbing his backpack and heading out the door. Rolling his eyes, Sam followed in suit.

The car ride, short as it was, was silent--or, at least, no one actually spoke. Who could with the music that loud?

They walked into the diner, were seated by a window, and stared at their menus--including Castiel, who seemed rapt by the choices listed, or perhaps, even _he_ wanted to avoid the awkwardness Sam was still trying to understand. Sam and Lucifer were seated on one side of the both with Dean and Castiel across from them.

Finally, Lucifer spoke. “Am I paying or are you guys gonna cover me?”

Dean’s mouth curved into a cruel smile, but Sam kicked him. “We’ll get the bill. Don’t worry about it.” He sent his brother a small glare and smiled at Lucifer.

The waitress approached and Dean’s attention trained on her, grinning handsomely. “Hey, beautiful.”

Sam and Lucifer rolled their eyes and Castiel continued to stare hard at the menu.

The older Winchester ignored all of them in favor of the waitress, who blushed, “Are you boys ready to order?” Dean winked and she giggled a little.

Sam didn’t blame her. His brother was good at that charming thing. He cleared his throat, however, and she looked at him, blinking as if to get the seared image of Dean’s smile out of her mind. _Gross_. “Hey, um, can I get a stack of pancakes?”  She nodded and wrote it down on her pad, looking next to Lucifer.

“Can I get the french toast? But no bacon, could I get fruit instead?”

“Of course,” the waitress told him, but Dean’s attention focused in on Lucifer hard.

“No bacon? Seriously?” He shook his head. “I’ll have the pancakes.”

The waitress looked to Castiel and Dean shook his head, “He’s not hungry.”

She looked skeptical but Castiel nodded pushing his menu away. The waitress gathered his, as well as everyone else’s up, and left, giving Dean another giggly smile as she did.

“I get it. You’re insecure.” Lucifer took a sip of his water, feigning interest in the dessert menu that had been shoved behind the salt and pepper shakers.

“Hey, you refused bacon.”

“I’m a _vegetarian_.”

The Winchester brothers both stared at him.

“Really? _You_?” Dean asked, baffled.

“Yep.” He took another nonchalant drink from his glass.

“Just when I thought things couldn’t get any weirder…” The hunter drummed his fingers on the table, wondering if he should be annoyed with the kid or impressed at the size of his balls.


	14. Chapter 14

The three finished eating and, after paying with a falsely acquired credit card, the four of them headed out.

“Have you ever tried food, Cas?” Lucifer asks as they approach the car.

“I don't require it.”

The boy shrugged, “So? I probably don’t either, but I want it.” He stood at the rear passenger door, waiting for it to be unlocked.

Sam slyly took the seat opposite him, having been informed by Lucifer that his brother and the angel were “not a couple” when he asked why Dean wasn’t keen on talking to Castiel. That was definitely out of the ordinary, especially since lately he’d been offering Cas french fries and trying to make him laugh. (Of the latter, Sam was fairly sure his brother had as of yet been unsuccessful.)

His choice in seating, however, forced the two of them next to each other, yet again. Dean shot him a look, but faked ignorance, the engine revving to life at the turn of his key.

“Do you want to call Bobby or should I?” Sam questioned his brother as they pulled out of the lot. He already knew the answer.

In fact, Dean was slipping his cellphone out of his pocket before Sam could finish asking, hitting his speed dial with undue vigor.

Sam guessed that could be attributed to not wanting to accidentally talk to Cas--not with two witnesses in the backseat. Later, perhaps much later, Sam was going to need to take the opportunity to make fun of him for this. After all, he called _Sam_ a girl.

The phone rang twice before Bobby picked up. “Singer Salvage,” the other end of the line told Dean.

“Hey, Bobby, it’s us.”

“Boys,” he greeted, although Sam was not so much part of the conversation as someone leaning in creepily close to listen in. “I’m guessing you ain’t callin’ ’bout the weather.”

“Have you heard about Lucifer?”

“What about him?” Bobby asked suspiciously.

About thirty seconds later, there was no doubt everyone in the car could hear him, “Whaddaya mean he’s in the car with you?”

Sam snatched the phone from his brother’s hand, “It’s fine, Bobby. Really. He seems alright.”

Lucifer leaned in, hand on Sam’s as he spoke into the phone, “Hello!”

“Did Satan just tell me ‘hello’?” The younger Winchester felt like he could hear Bobby shaking his head, ridiculous as it was. “You boys and those feathers ya got there need to get your asses here, pronto.”

“How’d you know Cas was with us?”

“Well, for one thing, I’d kill him myself if he’d let you two idjits alone with Lucifer, but mostly it’s just common sense. He goes where Dean goes.”

Sam raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at his brother, hoping he’d heard the older hunter’s words.

Dean reached his hand back for the phone and the younger Winchester grudgingly gave it to him. “Bobby?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re not exactly headed in your direction. I don’t want to get you too involved if I don’t have to.”

“Too late,” Bobby replied gruffly. “I’ll see you in a couple’a days.”

“But--” Bobby had already hung up. Dean stared at his phone for a second and shook his head, “Guess we’re heading to Bobby’s.”

“Why do I have the feeling I’m not exactly welcome?” Lucifer pouted in faked upset.

Sam whacked his shoulder with the back of his hand and the other boy grinned.

The ride went on for a while, with Dean glancing over at Castiel and opening his mouth, only to close it again. Lucifer counted for about an hour, Sam trying to hide his amusement as he did. Eventually, Lucifer resorted to staring out the window quietly, Dean having turned up the music to help resist temptation and having therefore become too boring.

There’s a soft sound, almost inaudible over the sound of Led Zeppelin permeating the inside of the Impala. It’s enough to prevent Sam from dozing off, however, and he searches for it.

It doesn’t take long before he sees Lucifer’s shoulders shaking ever so slightly. He’s crying-- _sobbing_ , even, forehead pressed to the glass.

Sam places a hand on his back and the body beneath it tenses.

“Sorry,” comes the hoarse whisper.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the younger Winchester says softly, eyes darting to the rearview mirror to see if his brother is paying attention to them. Dean’s eyes meet his in the mirror before quickly returning to the road.

Lucifer still doesn’t turn, “Not really. They’re fucking dead.”

“It’s not your fault.”

The boy finally looks at him, face reddened and cheeks tear-streaked, although his hand goes to wipe away as much of the evidence as he can. “Yes, it is. If not just for the fact that the angels and demons or whoever were looking for _me_ , I chose those people in the first place. They took care of me and I got them killed.” Self-hatred blossoms in his voice, anger cutting sharply through the miserable words.

Sam tries to find a way to lessen the blame, but the evidence is a bit damning. “Okay, maybe it is, just a little,” Lucifer looks up at him, fresh tears streaming down his face, and he continues, “ _but_ , you didn’t mean for them to get hurt, did you?”

“No.”

“So? Not your fault.”

  “I don’t think that’s how it works, Sam.” A shudder wracks through him with another sob.

Sam has an instinct for nurturing which he knows Dean sees no qualms in mocking him for, but he wraps an arm around Lucifer’s shoulder and pulls him in close, the other boy’s head resting between his shoulder and chest due to the height difference. He tries to calm the trembling and ignores the wetness seeping through his shirt. “It’ll be alright.”

Lucifer makes a feeble attempt at shaking his head, ineffective when Sam’s pulled him so tight against him. “They’re dead. My mom and dad…”

Sam rests his head on Lucifer’s, ignoring the urge to nuzzle into him--it was just that he was so sad and vulnerable and utterly _human_ , and Sam wanted to comfort him. He rubs his back and side in long, soothing strokes. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Lucifer murmurs into his chest, fingers clutching at the hem of Sam’s shirt.

Dean takes another glance into the rearview mirror and thinks for probably the thousandth time that his brother is a _saint_. With the two teenagers distracted, he reaches over a hand and pats Castiel’s thigh, giving it a little squeeze. “Sorry, about earlier.” His eyes are focused on the asphalt again, as if he hadn’t spoken. He flickers his sight to the angel long enough to see confusion manifest itself into a small smile.

He was not ready to admit that Lucifer was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...The next couple of chapters are no longer "pre-" or "eventual" Dean/Cas and Sam/Lucifer. Just FYI. (It only took me 15,000 words. Jesus. Why?)


	15. Chapter 15

Dean knew the drive could be over by the end of the day, rather than the “couple” Bobby had given them. He wanted to have a little longer to gain a better understanding of Lucifer though, so he figured he’d stop a bit early tonight. Yes, Lucifer _seemed_ harmless enough, asleep on his brother’s lap, but that didn’t make him not the devil. Also, he just didn’t like being confronted, about anything, really. Maybe that meant he wasn’t exactly judging him _fairly_ , but still, _Satan_ , okay?

Sam was snoring, arm draped over Lucifer. He’d _definitely_ be teasing Sam about it if it weren’t for the fact that Lucifer’s parents were dead. That was something he could understand, sympathize with, even now. He loved his brother and the way he cared about people (and fallen angels, it seemed), so he’d put up with it, despite how close the guy had gotten to his little brother so quickly.

He felt safe talking as long as Sam kept snoring. “So, um,” he cleared his throat, feeling a blush creeping up his cheeks that belonged more to his brother’s age range than his own, “What did you think about Lucifer’s crazy talk this morning? I mean, weird, right?”

Castiel stared off in thought, lips pursing.

“We’re close, really close, yeah, but we’re not…” _Fuck, we are_ , his subconscious informed him. “What do you…”

“I have faith in you, Dean. I care for you deeply.” His brows furrowed. “I don’t quite understand what that means.”

“Are you saying you like me?” Castiel probably wouldn’t get his implication, but Dean wasn’t sure how to word it and not sound either too blatant or like a huge girl, so he’d let it play out.

“Of course,” the angel replied without hesitation.

The hunter bit his lip, “I mean, in a…” _Romantic way_. No, he was not saying that. “As, uh, more than friends.”

“You’re--”

He did _not_ find the way Castiel was so confused adorable. “Look.” He fumbled for the words, fortunate that the road was straight and pretty empty. It didn’t require much of his attention. “I--” No, no words yet. He slipped his hand behind Castiel’s neck, gripping it with just enough force to stay him. The angel was trusting of him as always and allowed himself changeable. Before he could stop himself, Dean leaned himself in to the passenger’s side and pressed his lips to Castiel’s quick and hard and tried not to think “I’m kissing _Cas_ ” despite everything in him _screaming_ it.

He moved back, straightened the car up, and looked back at Castiel.

The angel was staring at him in shock.

“Well?” Dean chewed his lip, nervous for the first time in years after a simple kiss. When the silence continued, his nerves showed themselves in impatience. “Say something. Please.”

“Oh.”

What did that mean? It was times like this he really wished Cas gave more away in his tone.

“Never mind. It was stupid. I don’t know why I did it.” His voice came out gruff and defensive, but the angel wouldn’t notice it anyway.

“I liked it,” Cas said quietly and Dean nearly swerved off the road.

Although the car was _not_ in a ditch now, the movement had been enough to jostle Sam and Lucifer awake in the backseat, both of them wiping their eyes blearily.

In his attempt to straighten back up to a sitting position, Lucifer’s supporting hand may have slipped between Sam’s thighs and brushed past a very… _sensitive_ area. Who were they kidding? It happened. Lucifer withdrew sharply, however, without so much as a mumbled apology. Sam’s eyes went wide, but he, too, said nothing. Apparently accidentally touching someone’s junk was not something one talked about.

“You alright back there?” Dean called, acting as if he hadn’t kissed an angel and nearly crashed the car over it.

His younger brother blinked at him a few times and rubbed at his face, hoping he wasn’t red from the incident. “Yeah, fine. What happened?”

“Uh, had to avoid some roadkill. You’d be better off not knowing what,” the hunter lied, eyes swiftly looking to Cas to make sure the angel didn’t blow his cover--or, most mortifyingly, tell them what had actually happened.

Maybe it was the surprise of it all, but Castiel said nothing and Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

In the next fifteen minutes, the older Winchester was fairly certain he heard Lucifer mutter “road head” but he was not going to address it. It was better to let him continue it as a bit of a joke than have the truth in his ammo.

When they stopped for gas soon after, Dean kept a keen eye on Castiel in the car, but nothing embarrassing seemed to be slipping from the angel’s mouth. Why was he thinking about his mouth? He needed to stop that. Or, perhaps explore it properly. Now, however, was not the time.

They only drove another couple of hours before Dean decided they’d stop in a small town for dinner and rest there for the night. No one complained, so he guessed it was a good choice all around. He loved diner food.

As they made small talk over their eating choices, Castiel did something that shocked Dean, pointing to something on the menu--the children’s menu, really--and asking what it was.

“Peanut butter and jelly?” The angel nodded. “It’s a sandwich. I used to make ’em for Sammy all the time. It’s just peanut butter on one side and jelly on the other. Simple, but it’s good. Right, Sam?”

The younger Winchester put down his menu to address the angel, “Cas, are you going to _eat_?” His mouth hung open for a second before he remembered to close it.

“Perhaps.”

“A peanut butter and jelly sandwich is a good place to start.” Sam nodded his approval.

A waiter soon came to take their order, but once the food arrived, Lucifer and the Winchesters all stared as Castiel took his first bite of his sandwich. Then another.

“Well?” Dean prompted.

“Good,” Castiel told him, the word garbled by his mouthful of food.

The hunter took a handful of french fries and placed them on the angel’s plate. This was too interesting an opportunity to pass up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking _finally_.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight underaged-ness in this one--just a warning. Although sixteen is often the legal age of consent, it's not always. Apply this warning to future chapters as well since...things will happen. Teenage impulsivity and all that. Alright? You've been warned.

After feeding him everything their collective plates had to offer--including a bite of Lucifer’s veggie burger, which Lucifer was not exactly happy about, although Sam gave him the majority of his fries in retribution for his brother’s actions--Dean realized he’d just spent half an hour (maybe longer) staring at Castiel’s mouth. The angel had ketchup on his lip and when Dean told him such, his tongue flicked out to clean it off.

The hunter’s mouth imitated it, to Lucifer’s amusement. The fallen angel--for even with his grace, he did not belong to Heaven--kicked him under the table and winked at the older Winchester.

Dean wasn’t sure if he had taken back that kiss or not. On one hand, relationships were complicated and Castiel wasn’t even _human_ (whether that was helpful or hurtful still had yet to be determined), but on the other…it had felt really good, like he’d been itching to do it for who knows how long and by actually kissing him, it had unleashed some feelings he’d been burying down almost since they’d met. Yet again on the side of not doing it was the fact that Lucifer, of all beings, had pushed this whatever-it-was into existence. That thought alone was slightly disconcerting.

There was harm in trying, wasn’t there? It was what he’d always thought, at least, as it seemed to be the theme of his entire life.

Once Dean got around to finishing his own food instead of watching Castiel try everything the older Winchester put in front of him--and Sam had beaten Lucifer’s Tetris scores several times over--they were all ready to leave. Castiel’s eagerness to please him in this had only made problems worse.

It was late afternoon when they checked in at the motel, slightly less flea-ridden than the last had appeared to be.

Maybe it had been all the crying in the car or the innocent look of sleep, but Dean wanted to go out, to not have anyone there to bother him, and he felt comfortable enough leaving Sam and Lucifer alone in the room. Castiel wasn’t “anyone,” however, not that Dean had had much luck getting him to not follow in the past. The angel was generally pretty quiet though, and the older Winchester very much doubted Castiel was going to try to pressure him into anything.

Lucifer rummaged around his backpack and found his DS, only to discover it needed to be charged. Sam watched him with something akin to curiosity, tinged at the edges with sympathy.

He decided to look around in his own bag to discover his toothbrush. He was guessing regular, professional dental care was not part of his life right now.

It was just starting to get dark, the orange glow of sunlight out the window decreasing with each passing minute. “Hey, uh, did you want to go anywhere? Do anything?” Sam asked, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand.

“Not really.” He eyed the items Sam was gripping onto. “It’s only six o’clock though, so I’m not exactly ready to go to sleep.”

A flash of confusion passed through his features before he realized what he was holding. “Oh, no, I just, um… Well, I thought it might be nice to change and brush my teeth and, I dunno, sit around watching TV?”

Lucifer pursed his lips in thought, but nodded, and Sam, suddenly feeling awkward, headed to the bathroom, stripping down to his t-shirt.

The blonde could hear the unmistakable sound of Sam beginning to brush his teeth when he tossed his dead DS onto the bed and wandered to him. “Hey,” he greeted as the Winchester looked at him questioningly, hand paused over his toothbrush. He pushed himself backwards up onto the counter, sitting with his legs swinging and fingers gripping the edge. “So.”

“So?” Sam repeated, garbled.

“Maybe it’s the instant need for camaraderie, or the cuddling, or the french fries, or maybe just the hormones rushing through this teenage body of mine, but, uh, do you wanna make out?”

Sam choked around his toothbrush, coughing, and leaned over the sink to spit. “You’re kidding, right?” He wiped a hand across his mouth to get off any leftover froth and stared at Lucifer.

The boy’s lips quirked. “I mean, why not?”

“I’m-- you’re,” his tongue stumbled for words as his mind went into overdrive.

“Awww,” Lucifer cooed, giving the front of Sam’s shirt a tug and landing the teenager between his legs, the Winchester still in shock. He tilted his head up and his lips met Sam’s.

Within seconds, Sam was not only complying, but returning the kiss, deepening it as one of Lucifer’s legs captured the back of his thigh and held him close. He placed a hand on the counter, dipping slightly into the sink, to steady himself and the other flat against Lucifer’s back. Lucifer’s own hands moved up into Sam’s hair, combing through it before giving it a slight tug.

Sam wasn’t sure whether he loved or hated being a teenager, but he was already embarrassingly hard and when Lucifer’s tongue slid across his bottom lip, his mouth opened and a _noise_ escaped--a soft moan that sounded far too loud in the near silence of the bathroom.

It earned him, however, a bite to his lip and the leg around him to be joined by the other, gripping tighter. Lucifer’s tongue curled behind his teeth and tangled with his own and he couldn’t help pressing himself closer, didn’t want to deny the urge if he could. With the distance between them gone, he could feel Lucifer’s growing erection and had no doubt that the discovery was mutual as the devil groaned into his mouth.

Sam pulled back to breathe, forehead pressed to Lucifer’s. “What are we--” Fingers skimmed beneath his shirt and he shivered. Another kiss. It lasted a moment, the firm press of soft lips difficult to break apart from.

There was the fumbling sound of a key in the door and, stepping back, the legs around his having gone slack, Sam tried to calm his breathing, which seemed basically impossible.

Lucifer slid down between Sam and the counter. “Thanks. Minty fresh,” he sighed, laughter in his eyes.

The younger Winchester could feel the ghost of heat and hardness against him as Lucifer slipped out and squeezed the edge of the counter hard. He could feel where it wasn’t cold, where Lucifer had been, and shook his head as if that would clear his thoughts.

“Sam?” he heard his brother call and tensed.

Had he done something wrong? If so, why did he want so badly to do it again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I imagine young Lucifer to look like Garrett Hedlund, because he just looks like young (Nick) Lucifer to me.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during most of the same time as the last.

Dean knew his brother could handle himself, but he also knew Lucifer must be pretty powerful, especially with the way Castiel had acted when his grace became apparent. They’d probably be fine for an hour or two though, and Lucifer seemed to like Sam a lot more than he liked Dean, but, then again, the older Winchester sort of thought, who _wouldn’t_ like Sam? He’d been bullied as a kid, yeah, but he’d been scrawny, now he was freakishly tall and kind. What was there to not like?

It was nice to take a drive with just Cas. There was no one in the backseat to make comments about them, but Dean’s own subconscious had taken over that role quite nicely, thank you very much.

After discussing more on the angel situation, of which Castiel could only say for sure that they _would_ be attempting to locate Lucifer, and the Winchesters and himself in the process. He couldn’t pinpoint when or where that would happen, but he was certain it was imminent.

Once that business had been taken care of, Dean tried to talk about whatever _they_ were. “So, you and me, um--”

“Stop the car.”

The hunter’s mind reeled. “What?” was all he could manage to get out.

“Stop the car,” Castiel repeated, urgency in his voice. It was an order.

Dean pulled to the side of the road and shut the engine off, looking at the angel questioningly.

“Are you ready?”

“ _What_?”

“They’re here. Are you ready?” Cas reiterated, speaking slowly and clearly, but dangerously low. He slipped an angel-killing blade into Dean’s hand, another gripped tightly in his own.

“Sure, why not,” the hunter muttered in response, getting out of the car--Cas having already appeared outside of it.

There was a figure in the road now, one Dean hadn't met before, but he knew it was an angel without question. They always had that cocky, condescending look on their faces and this particular angel was definitely no different.

“Raphael,” Castiel called to him in greeting, approaching just enough to put himself between the archangel and Dean.

Raphael’s deep baritone responded in kind, “Castiel.” He stood very straight, appraising the situation with the surety of power that could destroy whatever was in his path.

The Winchester, however, didn’t like being in the role of something to be protected. He sauntered up next to Cas and gave his angel a smirk. “Teenage Mutant Ninja Angel?” he joked, the distance between them and the other angel.

“Archangel,” Castiel deadpanned.

“I guess things are getting serious.” Dean finally addressed the archangel, “Zachariah get taken off the job?”

“I’ve offered him my assistance,” Raphael replied with a catlike smile.

Dean already did _not_ like this guy. “So, what’s up?”

The archangel’s gaze, however, had already focused back on his brother, “Where is Lucifer?” With a steely glare and the narrowing of his eyes, Castiel remained silent. “I can get it out of by other means, if I must.”

“My guess is Jamaica,” Dean lied loudly, hoping to distract Raphael.

The angel barely spared him a glance before taking a step closer to Castiel. “I know you helped him. Heading for a fall, are we, Castiel?”

Okay, Dean _hated_ Raphael. He’d seen plenty of self-righteous pricks, but none quite as haughty as the archangel he now faced. People--or angels, whatever--wouldn’t get away with speaking to his angel that way. “Hey, ugly, why don’t you ask me? I mean, aren’t us humans easier to threaten?”

He knew full well Raphael couldn’t destroy him. He was a vessel. They still wanted him, and he’d use it to his advantage if he could.

“Just because I can’t kill you, Winchester, doesn’t mean I can’t make you suffer.”

It wasn’t exactly a _good_ thing, but at least he had Raphael’s attention now. “You think that’ll make me say yes?”

“Where is Lucifer?”

Dean wasn’t sure what he felt crackling in the air was tension or power--probably a combination of the two. “Why would I know?” He grinned.

“Do you really think you’re being clever?” The archangel looked him up and down, as if to make Dean completely aware of his insignificance.

“No,” he stepped back towards his car, Castiel stood in front of his door, his coat making him seem larger. Blood dripped down from beneath the angel’s sleeve and hit the dirt, “But at least I’ve got my looks.”

Castiel disappeared and the archangel’s mouth opened in surprise, but Dean slammed his hand over the sigil and the light engulfed him before he could speak, banishing him long enough for them to escape.

The blood smeared onto his car didn’t exactly make him happy, but the hunter would deal with it. It was worth not getting tortured and not getting Cas killed. He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. There was no reason to wait around.

He realized as he drove that they’d been about a half an hour from the town, but it’d probably been pretty obvious that was where they were staying. The angels weren’t stupid, just dicks.

About five minutes in, the passenger seat was no longer unoccupied. It hadn’t been a fight so much as a high-risk conversation, but Dean’s adrenaline was high and he startled, knuckles whitening as they gripped tighter. “Had to do it on the car, didn’t you?”

“I apologize.” He was still a moment. “There, it’s taken care of.”

Dean adjusted his side mirror and took a quick look. It was gone. “Thanks.” He fixed the mirror back to its proper position and drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel. His breathing was harder than it should’ve been, but he knew Raphael could’ve torn them both apart and gone straight for Lucifer, and _Sam_.

The drive back was much shorter and far less legal than the drive out had been. Dean was eager to make sure his brother was alright.

When he parked in front of the room and Castiel sensed the two of them still in there, he took a minute to lean against the side of the car and breathe. Cas stood in front of him, even with his eyes closed, he could feel his proximity. He opened them and the angel so close all it would take would be for him to lean forward, barely at all, and their lips would meet. He couldn’t be to blame for that, could he? He could pretend it was an accident, just the smallest little...

He didn’t though, straightening Castiel’s tie instead. He shouldn’t be shaking. They’d escaped. He wasn’t entirely keen on the knowledge that there were added archangels to deal with, however.

Dean stood up straight, lightly brushing up against the angel and setting his own nerves ablaze in the process. He pulled the key from his pocket and fumbled with the door, hyperaware of Castiel’s presence behind him as he did. At last, he got the key in and turned the knob, opening the door to see Lucifer flopping down on his bed and looking to him questioningly.

“Sam?”

It took a second, but his younger brother answered from the bathroom. “Yeah, I’ll--I’ll, uh, be right out.”

Dean was suspicious--Lucifer looked far too happy.


	18. Chapter 18

The older Winchester didn’t wait for his brother to come out, seeing the light pouring from the open bathroom door. That was permission enough. He stood in the doorway, watching Sam wash his face. “Hey.”

Sam jumped and then very much hoped he didn’t look guilty--or horny. Either of those would be definitely not good. “Uh, hey. What’s up?”

“We should probably get out of here pretty soon. Ran into an archangel out there.”

“Oh.” The younger Winchester went about drying his hands and face, avoiding looking at his brother as long as he could make it seem somewhat natural.

“So, uh.” Dean stepped in and quickly shut the door behind him.

Now Sam _had_ to look. Was his brother actually _nervous_?

“I…” he started. “Cas is…”

“I’m guessing he’s not hurt or you’d be with him.” His expression turned to worry. “Wait. He’s not dead, is he? Oh, god--”

“No, no, no, Cas is fine. More than fine. I, uh, I just.” His hands were moving but they weren’t really helping him explain himself.

“Oh. You and Cas. What about it?”

“There’s not… I don’t.” He paused, his mouth opening and closing as he worked out his words. He finally settled on, “He’s a _dude_ , Sammy.”

“So?”

Dean hated his brother’s calmness. “I’ve always considered myself, I dunno, straight, I guess.”

“Me, too,” Sam murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing,” the younger Winchester answered plainly, clearing his throat. “Okay, but you like Cas, right?”

“…Maybe.” He leaned back against the closed door.

“Dean.”

“Yeah, fine, alright? I like him.” The hunter glared at his younger, taller brother. “But…”

“He’s not _really_ a guy, is he?” Sam himself leaned against the counter and pointedly did _not_ think about what had happened there less than ten minutes ago.

Dean pushed himself from the door and paced, “Yeah, but he’s in…guy form. He’s basically a man. I’ve never...”

“Yeah,” Sam interrupted. “I know what you mean.”

The older Winchester gave him a strange, calculating look, “Sam, have you--”

“No.”

“The lady doth protest too much.” Dean smirked a little at himself for making a reference to something he knew Sam would have actually read.

“I said ‘no’ once. How is that too much? Also, I didn’t think you knew that phrase.” He frowned slightly, brows drawn. “Anyway, it’s nothing. We were discussing _your_ problem.”

Dean stepped closer to his brother, ever supportive even if often mocking, “You know, I don’t care if you--”

“Same,” Sam replied and looked at the older Winchester meaningfully. “So, are you going to do something about it or are you going to pretend you don’t have feelings for him?”

Dean mulled over it in his mind, coming up with any excuse that could possibly apply. “It’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a hunter and he’s…”

“Able to take care of himself?”

~

Castiel stood awkwardly in the room with Lucifer.

“You look worried,” the devil told him. Castiel remained silent. “What happened?”

“Raphael.”

Lucifer got to his feet, “I’m guessing we’re not sticking around here then.” He shoved a couple of things into his backpack.

Castiel watched with curiosity, but answered in his normal, almost emotionless tone, “It’s not safe.”

“What did Raphael want?”

“You.”

Lucifer chuckled, “Gross.”

The angel’s expression turned to its often-used confusion.

“Nothing, never mind.” He let his eyes linger on Castiel for a minute and decided to take a stab in the dark, “Did he kiss you?”

“Raphael didn’t--”

“Not him. _Dean_.”

Lucifer was pretty sure Castiel’s bafflement was accompanied by something akin to a blush. “How did you--”

“He _did_.” The devil grinned. “I’ve gotta give that guy more credit. How was it?”

“I don’t think Dean would appreciate if I discussed this subject, especially with you. He seems particularly sensitive about this issue.” Castiel crossed his arms over his chest and it made him smaller rather than larger or somewhat threatening as it did with many.

“I’m actually impressed you noticed that.” Lucifer pouted, “I won’t say anything. I mean, we’re brothers, why would I want to get you into trouble?”

“The morning star isn’t known for his loyalty to the host.”

“…Says the rebel who fell in love with the Righteous Man,” the devil retorted, raising an eyebrow at the angel.

“You knew who he was?” Castiel asked, the surprise evident but indistinct in his voice.

The devil made a mental note that Cas hadn’t refuted his claim. Lucifer vaguely wondered if he’d be crossing a line in zipping Sam’s duffel bag shut and threw his backpack onto the bed instead, prepared to leave whenever. He turned his attention from the bags back to Castiel, “Hey, I knew the plan. I just didn’t follow it.”

The angel’s brow furrowed and lips pursed, “Of course.” He nodded. It should’ve been obvious.

“So?” Lucifer prompted again, settling down next to his backpack. “How was it?”

Cas wasn’t sure of what to say on something that was still so foreign to him. “It was enjoyable.”

“Yeah, I’m wondering if that’s an inherited skill because--” He coughed. He didn’t exactly care if anyone knew, but Sam’s feelings mattered. Lucifer didn’t know how he’d become so attached so quickly, but he again tied it to his teenaged human body that still craved affection and companionship. “That’s good though.”

“Yes,” Castiel replied, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

“Guess you won’t be a virgin for long.” He winked at his brother and grinned as the angel’s eyes widened a little and his arms dropped to his sides. “You know what to do, right?” Castiel glanced away. “If it makes you feel better, I haven’t fucked anyone yet in this body, and it’s been millennia since I’ve fucked _anyone_. We can learn--or relearn--about it together.”

Humanity in general had obviously ruined Lucifer. He couldn’t think of another explanation as to why he was so eager to embrace the ideas of caring and family. His parents had been good people, though, so he figured he could blame/thank them for his disgustingly large amount of sentimentality and sympathy.

Castiel was waffling between wariness and relief. “Dean and I--”

The Winchesters entered the room and Castiel stopped.

“Alright, since I figure Sam can’t keep his mouth shut anyway--” Sam blushed and faked a cough which caused Lucifer to like him just a little bit more, “I like Cas. Now, let’s get out of here before those angelic dickbags find us.”

Sam grabbed his duffel bag, zipping it closed and swinging it over his shoulder.

“Sam?” Lucifer addressed him.

The younger Winchester looked guilty, swallowing down the lump in his throat, “Yeah?” He took another step towards the door.

“You forgot your jacket.”


	19. Chapter 19

Castiel rode shotgun again, this time on Dean’s command. Sam would’ve minded being forced into the backseat, but, despite what had happened between them, making him feel nervous, it was better with Lucifer’s companionship than if he’d been in the back by himself.

It was so late that it was not only dark, but _black_ outside when they reached Bobby’s. There was the warm yellow glow of a light on inside though, so Dean figured the old hunter couldn’t get too angry with them.

“Sam, you and Luci ready to head in?” the older Winchester asked as he killed the engine. Without the shine of the headlights, it was hard to not be drawn in to Bobby’s house. He’d cared for them so much as kids when their dad would haul them around on hunts. They’d had their house back in Lawrence, but it was only once Dean was a little older that they’d be allowed to stay home without a chaperone--which, at times, had been Bobby--when he’d be tracking something.

Dean himself had brought Sam along quite a few times before he thought his brother would be okay left alone. Bobby had always helped out whenever they’d needed him. He was a gruff, old bastard with a bit of a drinking problem, but he treated them like his own.

Lucifer looked to Sam, frowning, “‘Luci’? Really?”

The teenager shrugged, “Could be worse.”

“I guess.”

The two boys gathered their belongings and headed in, noticing that Dean and the angel hung back by the car. Neither could see what was happening, however.

“This guy’s not gonna try and kill me, is he?” Lucifer asked, less than a couple of paces from the front door now, standing on Bobby’s porch.

“Um.” Sam had earlier considered the hunter’s actions, but to no concrete conclusion before he’d been…distracted.

“That’s not comforting.”

“Yeah…” Sam sucked in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “Stand behind me?” Rolling his eyes, Lucifer shuffled back and allowed Sam to step forward and knock on the door. No answer. He knocked again. There were noises inside like someone stumbling and the younger Winchester tried again, this time with an added, “Bobby?”

Dean and Castiel made their way up behind them. “He not answering?” The older Winchester shifted the bag slung over his shoulder and reached in to knock harder, but the door swung open instead, light bursting from the opening.

“Sorry,” the old hunter grumbled and ushered them inside, giving the unfamiliar face he knew to be Lucifer a thorough glance over. “Boys, Cas,” he greeted, then warily, “Satan.”

The devil tried his winningest of smiles. “Lucifer,” he corrected, holding out a hand for Bobby to shake.

The hunter eyed it like it might be some sort of trick and Lucifer tucked it back to his side with a knowing smirk, but he continued in his same friendly manner. “You must be Bobby. Nice house you’ve got here.”

That statement earned him the most suspicious look of all, but rather than addressing it, Bobby simply mumbled, “Right,” and brushed past them towards the kitchen.

“Let me talk to him, catch him up on things,” Dean told them, dropping his bag to the floor. “You three, stay,” he ordered, then followed Bobby to the kitchen.

Lucifer raised a hand, gesturing towards Dean, but Sam shook his head, “It’s probably better to let Dean at him first.”

~

Dean was a second--if that--behind Bobby when the man entered the kitchen. There was a bottle of scotch with two partially filled glasses next to it on the table, which Bobby grabbed and set next to the sink.

“Did you have company?”

Bobby turned at him, surprised that Dean had followed, eyes widened a bit with panic, but his expression turned sour soon enough afterwards that he looked like his usual self again. “No, ‘course not.”

“So you were just drinking from two glasses…” Dean raised an eyebrow, “by yourself?”   
“Oh, Rufus stopped by yesterday, huntin’ a rugaru a couple of hours north’a here,” Bobby answered.

It did nothing to ease Dean’s suspicions. “Sorry, Bobby, but I don’t buy it. You, of all people, leaving booze unfinished? Just doesn’t sit right.”

The old hunter waved a dismissive hand at him, “What other reason could there be?”   
Dean thought on it a moment, “Have you got yourself a lady friend?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bobby replied gruffly, shooting back one of the glasses and rinsing it in the sink.

The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched up into a smirk. “Alright, Bobby,” he congratulated, “Good for you, getting some action.” He patted the older man on the back.

“That’s none of your damn business.” Bobby glowered at him. “Now catch me up on this new angels and demons deal.

~

Lucifer surveyed the house, what little of it he could see from the entry. He scraped his nails on the banister at the end of the stairs and Sam watched him bring his nails up close to his nose and sniff.

“What is it?” the Winchester questioned, moving in closer to Lucifer.

“Sulfur,” the devil replied curiously.

Sam looked in the direction of the kitchen, panicked, “You don’t think Bobby’s…?”

The angels shook their heads and Castiel spoke, “We would’ve been able to see it. He’s not possessed, but demons have been here. Recently.”

The Winchester frowned, “Could be nothing. I mean, Bobby’s got all kinds of things coming through here.” Lucifer quirked an eyebrow at him. “Or…it could be something. We could just ask. It’s…Bobby.”

His brother and the older hunter returned. “You boys must be tired,”Bobby said, wringing his hands together.

Sam looked at his brother and back to Bobby, voice hard, “Why is there sulfur?” He pointed to the banister.

“That?” Bobby waved another dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it--really,” he added as the Winchesters appeared to be up in arms about it.

They trusted Bobby though, so they figured if it was anything, he wouldn’t keep it from them.

“Now,” the old hunter tried again, “I’ve got two spare bedrooms and I assume Cas won’t need one, but what about him?” He gestured to Lucifer.

“I sleep,” the devil volunteered.

“Alright, well, then, you three can decide amongst yourselves who gets the couch. Goodnight.” Bobby retreated to his own bedroom.

Dean stared at the teenagers seriously, “I’m taking a bed. You two can fight it out for the couch.” He grinned, grabbing his bag. He was off before the boys could argue with him, leaving Castiel seemingly conflicted.

“Castiel, could you give us a moment?” Lucifer asked, and when his brother glanced between the rooms to which he could escape, gave him a suggestion, “Couldn’t you, uh, talk to Dean or something?”

The angel nodded and disappeared, causing the two boys to give each other a look--Dean was in for a small heart attack.

“You can take the bed,” Sam told him immediately, “if you want it.”

Lucifer sighed and ran a hand through his blonde hair, “To be honest, I don’t really wanna sleep alone.”

“Um. You slept alone at the hotel…” he started, but then he saw that look, the one that reminded him of the crying boy in the car, not the powerful being.

“You were all still in the room.” He sighed. “I know it sounds super lame, but I mean, I just…I don’t want to be alone.”

“Oh.” Fuck. Sam had a dilemma on his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That chapter had the introduction of what I'm currently calling mystery pairing, which is one that I love so, so much. I felt a bit weird adding it, but a friend (who has had a lot of influence on this fic) convinced me to do it. Feel free to guess what it is. :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Discussion of homophobia and repression.

Lucifer made Sam uncomfortable now, but not because he was Lucifer. It was more the fact that Sam could’ve denied any weird feelings he might’ve had, written them off as those random teenage desires that you wouldn’t actually _want_ when offered them. The things that flit through your mind simply because you’re young and curious.

Except Lucifer had kind of ruined that excuse for him.

He’d liked making out with the devil. It sounded ridiculous, even to him, but he guessed he should expect this level of weird in his life by now. He’d kissed two normal human girls, and they both had been wonderful, but he’d never really considered himself in the same sex. He had been pretty sure Dean was, despite all of the heterosexual bravado, but he figured that was probably due to their upbringing.

John Winchester wasn’t exactly encouraging of self-exploration, only in raising his sons to be ready to defend themselves and borderline overly masculine. Maybe it was his background from being in the Marines, or perhaps how his own father had raised him, but John made Dean into a soldier. Sam was lucky to be younger, to have his older brother fight to keep him in school and safe, telling their father that he’d know when Sam was ready and that he’d train him--and he had. Sam would always ask him why he followed their father’s orders, that he didn’t need to be like John Winchester, that their dad wasn’t always right, but Dean would tell him that he was their _dad_ and that meant something.

Sam could remember a time, though, when Dean had apparently been “too friendly” with another man, that John had seen the looks Dean had given a few men, other hunters even, and their father had warned him off of such behavior, very clearly. He couldn’t say for certain what his older brother had done to earn their dad’s fury, but Dean had been cautious since then, suppressing any untoward desires he might have. It was a big step for him to admit he had feelings for Castiel, even if it was merely a male _vessel_.

That brought Sam back, however, to his own problem. He’d been very young when he’d heard their father telling Dean off, but it had been enough to make an impression, perhaps the reason he’d never given the subject any serious thought for himself. Sure, he knew Dean might not be so straight, but that hadn’t forced him to question his own sexuality. He was a teenager. Teenagers had all kinds of strange compulsions and he _knew_ he liked girls. Wasn’t that enough?

Then, Lucifer--fucking _Lucifer_ \--had kissed him and he was _ruined_. It wasn’t even as if he was simply in a male vessel like Cas, that human body was his own, with all of his own urges and hormones and feelings and muscles and Sam probably should stop there.

The devil wanted to spend the night together. It hadn’t been an outright request, but it had been very clear in its meaning.

He didn’t want to sleep alone.

So, Sam had two options: sleep with Lucifer or force a sad boy who’d lost his family to spend his night without the one comfort he’d not even been brave enough to _ask_ for. It wasn’t like Dean would do it.

It seemed as if he had only one option. How could he deny him this?

There was, however, a very serious problem that came with this easy solution-- _Lucifer had kissed him_. It all came back to that. The devil had more-than-platonic inclinations towards him, and, what was worse, he definitely had the same. A whole night alone with Lucifer and little control of their impulses? Yeah, perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea. He’d just have to make it very clear this was a…friend thing, not a I’m-trying-to-get-into-your-pants thing and that Lucifer felt similarly.

“I’ll sleep with you--er, no, not--” Sam cheeks turned bright red, “I mean, you know, in the same room, but…”

Lucifer held up his hands, “I won’t try anything. I promise.”

The Winchester nodded, his blush refusing to leave. “Alright. You’d be taking the room I usually stay in anyway.” He led the way up the stairs, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to stop being so awkward about the whole thing. It was just a comfort thing. Okay? Okay.

Once in the room, door shut behind them and bags dropped, Lucifer tugged at the t-shirt he was wearing, “Do you mind if I sleep in your shirt?”

Sam shook his head, “It’s fine.” He then watched as Lucifer stripped off his jeans before quickly turning around to pretend as if he hadn’t. “I’ll, um, sleep on the floor.” He fumblingly changed into pajama bottoms, pulling off his jacket and piling his clothes on the floor.

“I don’t mind sharing,” Lucifer grinned.

The Winchester scowled at him, “I thought we agreed.”

Lucifer was still smiling, but pushed himself into the bed, “I was just offering. It doesn’t look comfortable down there.”

“I’ve slept on worse,” Sam told him, rummaging around the room for a blanket and plucking a pillow from the bed. He made himself a sleep area on the floor next to the bed. “If you need anything, let me know.” He paused. “Anything not…sexual.”

The devil laughed and Sam could hear the sheets rustle as he snuggled farther into the bed. The Winchester laid on the floor, somewhat tense, for a while, but he eventually drifted off to sleep.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out when he woke up again, but it couldn’t have been long. He sat up and looked at the figure in the bed, could hear the harsh breathing, the sound of sniffling. “You alright?” he asked in a loud whisper. He could almost make out a hesitant nod.

“Yeah,” Lucifer held in a breath for a few seconds, “It’s nothing, just nightmares--well, memories, I guess.”

Sam got up and sat on the edge of the bed, “Want to talk about it?”

Snorting, Lucifer answered, “Not really.”

As Sam’s eyes adjusted, he could see the boy was still crying. “Really?” he questioned softly, but with a hint of incredulity.

The devil shook his head, wiping a hand across his face, “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be so…affected, I’m...”

“Part human,” Sam finished for him, “Of course you feel differently now. I can’t imagine the kinds of things in your head.”

“Yeah,” Lucifer sighed, “you really don’t want to.”

“Is there something…”

Lucifer moved over in the bed, turning his head to look at Sam, “Could you…just lay here a while?”

It didn’t bear questioning, “Of course.” He snatched the pillow back up from the floor and lay atop the covers.

“Thanks.” Lucifer shifted a little closer. “Again, you know, for everything.”

“You sure are polite for the lord of darkness,” Sam told him.

“My parents raised me well,” he murmured, his eyes already shut.

The Winchester laid there another minute before succumbing to the chill in the room, sliding under the covers. Lucifer snuggled into him, and although he wasn’t sure if the boy was actually unconscious yet or not, he allowed it, wrapping an arm around the devil’s shoulders.

He’d just stay a bit, make sure Lucifer was okay, then he’d slip down to the floor and go back to sleep himself. No one else would need to know. He could explain it away--Lucifer wanted company. He’d obliged. It wasn’t as if he’d been in bed with the devil--or so he’d be able to say.

It was just so nice and warm and the bed was so much softer than the floor. He let his eyes drift closed.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today since I posted them same day on tumblr, too. :)

Despite the shock of Castiel appearing in his room, Dean hadn’t minded much. The fact that he’d been in only his boxers may have made him a little self-conscious though. It didn’t matter if Cas didn’t care, _he_ did. They’d kissed once and the hunter had told Cas when they arrived at Bobby’s that, yeah, he liked him and, yeah, the boys knew, but Bobby didn’t need to. Not now, at least. It probably hadn’t needed explaining, but Dean…he hadn’t even considered the possibility of anything remotely _relationship_ -like in a long time, not more than a one night stand.

Having his own space was something Dean was finding he didn’t need as much as he used to. Besides, he would’ve been fucked if Castiel hadn’t come with him on that drive earlier when Raphael had shown up--given that the reason he’d found them wasn’t _because_ of Castiel’s presence. One-on-one with an archangel would not have been ideal.

Now he didn’t know what to tell Cas though. It was only getting later by the second and he was _exhausted_. Sure, he could force himself to stay up if he was on a hunt, all that adrenaline racing through him, but here, at Bobby’s, it was nice to almost relax. It wasn’t as if he was letting his guard down or anything, just ready to get some real rest before hell undoubtedly broke loose. Relief was often short-lived.

“Cas?” Dean flopped himself back onto the bed, throwing an arm over his face, eyes closed.

“Yes?”

“Could you get the light?” He lifted his arm just enough to peak an eye open, watching the angel locate the switch and flip it into the off position. In the dark, he wriggled himself under the covers. He waited a bit, the shadowy figure of Castiel standing awkwardly by the door. He could barely keep himself awake long enough to say, “Don’t watch me sleep. ’S creepy. ’Night, Cas.”

 

“Goodnight, Dean.”

~

When Dean woke up, it was light out and Castiel was still in his room. “You stay here all night?” he asked, voice hoarse from sleep.

“Yes,” the angel admitted.

“Freak.” The Winchester allowed himself a moment to stretch his limbs before throwing his legs over the side of the bed.

“Sorry.”

Dean looked at him hard, although the effect was lessened by the amount he had to blink sleep from his eyes. He licked his lips, propping himself up with his hands on his knees, “It’s fine. Not the weirdest thing you’ve done.”

“I’ve stayed in the hotel room overnight before,” Castiel tried, wondering why this earned him Dean’s annoyance.

“That’s different, this is more, like…well, like you standing over me in my bedroom. I mean, Sam’s in the hotel room, and Lucifer was.” He sighed. “It’s a privacy thing.”

“I don’t like leaving you.”

The words hung heavy in the air and Dean was sure Castiel didn’t mean to make him as uneasy as he did. It was actually really sweet, but that only made it more difficult for Dean to here. “Don’t you think that’s a little… Right.” He’d already admitted his feelings for Cas to everyone but Bobby, pushing him away would have little effect now--and it would likely lead to Lucifer saying a variety of things he’d rather not hear. Although he doubted there was _any_ way to prevent that from happening.

Sam would be disappointed in him though.

On the thought of Sam, Dean slipped on his rumpled t-shirt and jeans, barefoot on the wooden floors. He hit the bathroom and made his way downstairs to check the couch first. Castiel was suspiciously absent so maybe Dean _had_ gotten something through to him, whether he should’ve or not. The couch was empty, as in no rumpled blankets or recent indents. If Sam had been there, he could’ve been up already and straightened it all out. If Lucifer…well, there was the distinct possibility he could’ve bolted.

Bobby startled when he entered the kitchen. He ran a hand through his hair and squinted at the older man, who looked as if he’d hurried to sit down at the table when he heard Dean coming, “What’s up with you? Between last night and now… Really, Bobby…you hiding something?”

He eyed the two coffee mugs in the sink, but changed the subject anyway when no reply was forthcoming, wondering if there was actually someone else _staying_ in the house. “You seen Sam or Luci?”

“Nope, not since I made you kids fight it out for sleeping quarters.” Bobby visibly relaxed at the question until an implication hit him, “You think Satan flew the coop?”

“Don’t know yet. I’m gonna go check the bedroom, but…keep an eye out.”

He made his way back up the stairs, noticing the way they creaked this time in his much more alert state. There was worry worming its way through his senses now, but no need to cause alarm--not yet. Dean turned the handle slowly and pushed the door open enough to check. There was a rumpled blanket on the floor and a pillow on the side of the bed blocking his view, so he carefully snuck into the room.

Past the hindrances to his vision and with full view of the bed, he could see his brother and the devil curled around each other. Lucifer’s head rested on Sam’s shoulder, the younger Winchester’s arm under him and curved over his stomach, sheets tangled around their torsos.

Dean had to cover his mouth with a hand to keep from laughing. It wasn’t necessarily a good thing, but it was fucking _hilarious_. He spied Sam’s cellphone on top of his bag and grabbed it, snapping a photo of the two teenagers. With a few more clicks, he’d sent it to himself and deleted it off of his brother’s nearly drained phone.

He wouldn’t wake them now. He’d wait until his brother was up and unaware before he teased him with the evidence he’d gleefully captured.

Maybe he should be more upset since it was Satan and all, but the kid had been at most annoying over the past couple of days, nothing close to menacing or evil. He walked back to his own room, looking for Cas so he could tell _someone_ what he’d seen, but the angel was gone. With a frown, Dean headed down to let Bobby know there hadn’t been any early morning escapes.

~

Sam blearily curled into tighter to the warmth next to him and realized his arm was stuck under something heavier that blankets. His mind didn’t care about what exactly that might be right now, but more that he really needed to move his trapped limb. He tugged and was met with a sleepy groan. He tried again and the thing on top of his arm shifted, not like he had moved it, but that _it_ \--whatever it was--had moved.

His eyes shot open and he was met with Lucifer’s head in the crook of his arm, now freeing him with his turn. He pulled away a little, but the other boy snuggled in closer, nestling into his chest. This was not happening.

Except it really, really was.


	22. Chapter 22

Sam nudged Lucifer and the devil’s head rolled, facing up. God, who _wasn’t_ adorable in sleep?

“Hey.” He lifted his shoulder a little where Lucifer was still on top of him.

Yawning, Lucifer opened his eyes, “Oh.” He propped himself up on an elbow and found himself looking down at Sam, up close and personal. “I slept much better, if that’s any consolation.” He smiled and found himself yawning again. “Too well, maybe.”

Blaming sleep, Sam’s hand hooked under Lucifer’s shirt, eyes hazarding a glance at his lips. “Can I…”

The devil’s arm slid from its semi-upright position down beneath Sam’s shoulder and made himself close, giving Sam permission without a word.

The taller boy hesitated only a second, pressing his lips as well as his body in towards Lucifer’s. The kisses were tired, lazy, and he slowly moved himself until he was over the other boy, working his mouth open with tongue and teeth. The length of their bodies in contact now, his still-clothed erection slid against the indent of Lucifer’s hip. He maneuvered himself fully on top of the devil, pinning the blonde’s thighs, the clothing between them doing nothing but adding friction as they rub against each other.

Lucifer broke the kiss, breathing heavily, “I just wanna warn you, you keep that up,” he pushed his hips up in indication, “and I will come now. Embarrassing as it is.”

Sam hadn’t really thought himself sexually aggressive, but here he was on top of the devil, grinning against the skin of his throat as he slid a hand to Lucifer’s cock, slipping it out through his boxers and stroking him. He had never done it to someone else before, but in this position, it was almost like touching himself.

Fingers skimmed under his shirt and dug into the skin of his back and Lucifer bucked. He pulled back to watch the blonde’s face, the devil biting his lip to hold in a groan as he spilled between them. “Fuck,” he spat afterward. “Yeah, never gonna live that down, am I?”

Sam’s eyes were wide, shock and lust vying for dominance, but he managed a smile, “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Uh-huh,” he gave a push and Sam toppled to his side again, legs tangled in his. He freed Sam’s length from where it had been trapped by two layers of fabric.

“But--”

“What?” Lucifer gave his cock a squeeze, thumbing over the head, “Someone might walk in?” He let his hand move almost lazily up and down the shaft. “Yeah, I’m aware.” 

The angle made it more difficult than he would’ve liked, but he worked Sam’s cock in quickening strokes. He kissed him again, Sam’s mouth less responsive as Lucifer took him apart, bringing him close until he felt Sam’s body tense, hips juddering without his say. He swallowed down the noises the other boy made as he came, Lucifer’s hand now sticky. He kissed him on the lips again, then jaw and neck, murmuring into the skin, “Totally worth it.”

Sam flopped an arm above his head, “I can’t believe I’m the one who started it.”

“I guess I’m just a bad influence,” the devil quipped. “You should probably get up before they decide to come in here. I mean, they’ll know no one slept on the couch.”

Sam tried to nod his head, breathing shallow, “Yeah.” He blinked. “Yeah,” he repeated, and pushed himself up. “Okay. Um, I’m gonna go shower.” He blushed and hurried over to his bag, rummaging through it, “I kinda feel like a slut.”

“Maybe you are. I don’t know you that well.”  

“Exactly,” Sam sighed, clothes held in front of himself defensively and made his way to the floor.

“Wait.” The Winchester halted nervously. “Bathroom’s down the hall?”

“Yeah, to the right,” and Sam was out, shutting the door behind him.

“Thanks.” Lucifer remained on the bed. He wiped his hand on his shirt and wondered about pulling the blankets back up over himself, but decided he was far too sticky for that. He stood up and tugged the shirt off over his head, cleaning up as much as he could with it and tucking it wadded up behind his backpack. Once Sam was done, he could have his own shower, cleaning off anything remaining. He put his jeans back on and prepared himself to wait. He could hear the water moving through the pipes.

Castiel appeared.

“Closed doors are usually that way for a reason,” Lucifer told him and Castiel had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Lucifer, what we discussed…”  “The sex stuff?” Castiel nodded. “I think I’m figuring it out, actually,” he muttered to himself. “What about it?”

“Sex and human relationships in general,” the angel clarified, a slight frown.

“Something happen?” Lucifer asked, both disappointed and grateful his brother didn’t ask the same of him. He’d keep his mouth shut, for Sam, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to share with someone.

“Dean has been…annoyed with my proximity. I don’t understand his privacy requirements.”

“Let me guess, you watched him sleep?”

Castiel’s eyes opened, surprised that Lucifer already knew of Dean’s complaint, “I stayed in the room. I…don’t enjoy leaving him.” He spoke carefully.

“You told him that, didn’t you?” The devil sighed. “Look, he seems like the kind of guy who needs time to figure things out. I mean, how long have you known him and _now_ he tells you he likes you?” He stretched his arms out in front of him, cricking his neck. “I can help him along…” He looked up at Castiel through his lashes, wondering how well his brother can read expressions.

There was a squeak and the water stopped.

The angel still looked confused.

Lucifer gathered his things, itching for a bit of cleanliness after having to actually talk to someone and feeling spots that he hadn’t gotten on his skin as he did. “I’m gonna go shower. Whatever you’re doing, I don’t think it matters now. Dean likes you for a reason, I could see it two seconds after meeting him.” He left the room.

Castiel wasn’t sure what to make of that.


	23. Chapter 23

Sam scrubbed himself thoroughly clean. There went a chunk of his virginity.

He couldn’t help feeing guilty though, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t started it. He was the one who kissed Lucifer this morning, who pushed things further. He wondered if maybe he had taken advantage of the boy--even if he was the devil, he’d only been looking for comfort that night, and Sam had been the one to sexualize it.

Lucifer hadn’t seemed to mind though, whether that made things better or worse was of yet undetermined, although Sam had a feeling this thing going on between them was only just beginning.

He dried himself off and threw on clothes, wadding up the dirty ones to toss back into the room. As he walked down the hall, he saw Lucifer--shirtless and smirking--making his way towards the bathroom.

“I hear cleanliness is next to godliness,” the devil told him in passing.

Sam rolled his eyes, but smiled. It was nice to have someone around who was fairly talkative and not his brother. Okay, if he let his body do the talking, someone sexually interested in him…well, that was cool, too.

After depositing his clothes off in the bedroom, he made his way downstairs, the smells of breakfast wafting up to him, growing stronger as he went. By the time he reached the kitchen, he could see Bobby standing in front of the stove and his brother at the table with a cup of what was likely coffee and a plate full of eggs and toast.

His stomach growled. They really hadn’t eaten much the day before, but everyone had been rather distracted. Now, though, he could _definitely_ eat. There were already plates down on the table and after asking Bobby if he needed help and being refused for being too late, Sam sat down next to his brother and started buttering his toast.

Nearly choking on a bite of egg and toast held between his teeth--the older Winchester wasn’t exactly known for his table manners--Dean struggled to find his cellphone. Once it was located, he let out a muffled sound of triumph and pulled the bread from his mouth. He chewed down the food in his mouth, searching for something on his phone and Sam couldn’t help being distracted from his own toast by his brother’s actions.

Dean grinned and shoved the phone’s display into his younger brother’s face.

Sam had to pull his head back to make it less blurry and stared at the screen, unsure what he was looking at. “What?” he asked finally.

“It’s you and Lucifer.” Dean rested his elbow on the table, gaze going from the picture to his brother, “You’re _snuggling_.” He raised his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth tweaked upwards unmistakably.

Sam inhaled a slow breath and glared. “And you say _Cas_ has issues with privacy.”

The older Winchester huffed, “Hey, you’re my baby brother. I’m _supposed_ to keep an eye on you.”

“Hey, he’s an angel, he’s supposed to watch over his charge,” Sam retorted.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “This is totally different.”

“Sure it is.” Sam picked up his plate and walked over to Bobby, who used the spatula to to push a heaping serving of eggs onto his plate. He thanked him and Bobby muttered something to the effect of “There’d’a been ham in it, but I hear the devil doesn’t eat meat.” That meant Dean must have actually told him that, which in further exploration let Sam know that even Dean had wanted to accommodate their new companion.

“No meat?” Sam quipped as he sat back down.

“I didn’t want him bitching about it the entire meal,” Dean responded easily, shoveling another forkful of egg into his mouth.

Since Lucifer had done nothing of the like during their other meals, Sam could only respond sarcastically in a simple, “Uh-huh.”

“I can’t believe you cuddled him.”

The devil made his way into the kitchen, “Who did what?” He snatched a piece of toast from Sam’s plate and assumed the seat on the other side of him.

Dean picked his phone back up from the table and turned it in Lucifer’s direction.

Lucifer chewed the bread slowly and tilted his head. “Oh!” He nodded. “That’s _us_. I get it.”

“Why were you two sleeping together anyway?”

Sam opened his mouth to answer but the devil beat him to it, “Sam was gentleman enough to give me the bed, but I insisted he join me. It was fucking cold last night.”

The older Winchester peered at him suspiciously over his fork.

~

Bobby knew how to avoid getting questioned. He wasn’t there to be anyone’s servant, but he’d be damned if making breakfast wasn’t a good distraction.

Dean had come back to the kitchen so enthusiastic it verged on creepy and Bobby had been almost certain he’d found something. It was somewhat of a relief to find that Dean’s mind was fully occupied now by the sight he’d found upstairs and not on a tie or suit jacket that may or may not be somewhere in his house, not to mention the owner of said items.

It gave Bobby both time to put the boys off the subject and figure out what exactly he should tell them, if anything at all.

Alright. He really _should_ tell them. Maybe Sam snuggling up to Satan and that obvious thing Dean and Cas had going on would work in his favor. After all, it was probably better to give them a little warning first so they didn’t, I don’t know, kill the demon when they saw him. He was fairly sure the Winchesters had never crossed paths with Crowley. Even so, there was no way the angels wouldn’t recognize him.

That’d be an awkward situation if he ever saw one.

Broaching the topic, however, was going to be a hard thing to do, but his time was rather limited. Crowley spent a lot of time there in Bobby’s old wreck of a house, left things around. He hadn’t hidden his occupation of Bobby’s living quarters by any means.

Bobby was just lucky the majority of the evidence was in his bedroom and not out in the open.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 4/20! Enjoy yourselves today.

“Wanna do something really childish?” Dean asked his younger brother as the older hunter left the room a moment.

After giving the older Winchester a few seconds of the glare of disapproval, Sam asked, “Like what?” His own plate was empty, so only the sounds of Lucifer still eating broke his purposeful derisive silence.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Lighten up.” He snatched Bobby’s cellphone from the counter and slid smoothly back into his seat at the table. “Do you get the feelings Bobby’s hiding something?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Sam shrugged. He was starting to understand this whole concept of good reasons to keep secrets, even with that itch of wanting to know someone else’s. The sulfur was enough to cause alarm, maybe…maybe it was something they _needed_ to know. Not like his secret. He watched Dean pressing random buttons on the old hunter’s cellphone and offered out his hand.

Unhappily, Dean slapped the phone into his brother’s hand while Lucifer watched without a word, too busy chewing and watching with interest.

Sam flipped through various menus, wondering which was less invasive--Bobby’s text messages or his photos. He decided for photos. Bobby didn’t seem like the memory-capturing kind, which made it the lesser of two privacy-disregarding evils.

He was right. There weren’t many photos, and with their tiny thumbnails he couldn’t make anything out. Probably nothing. He clicked one and found a picture of some sort of trap or sigil that must’ve been taken for another hunter in need of information and there was a picture of a picture of a young Dean with what must be the baby version of himself in his arms--which was sweet, but he hadn’t expected it from Bobby. It showed the old man really did care more than he liked to say. He’d show it to Dean, but he clicked over to the next picture mindlessly and nearly clicked again before he realized what he was looking at. “Um.”

“Did you find something?” Dean leaned in, trying to look over the top of the phone, but Sam held it close to him.

The younger Winchester took another long look at the picture. That…that was definitely Bobby. Kissing someone. A male someone. Someone he’d never seen before. It certainly seemed like something someone might hide, but…it was Bobby. It was almost unbelievable.

After giving himself enough of a view to confirm what he’d seen, Sam placed the phone on the surface of the table and slid it across to his brother, whose scrabbling hands nearly dropped it to the floor.

“That’s…Bobby,” Dean said immediately. “But…who’s that other guy?”

Sam shrugged, “No idea.”

Lucifer held out a hand, fingers wiggling, “Let me see.”

The hunter held the phone to his chest, “Why?”

“Why not?” the devil retorted, raising an eyebrow.

Sam snatched the phone from his brother and into Lucifer’s eager fingers. At his brother’s look, he sighed, “What can it hurt?”

As Lucifer stared at the photo, Dean leaned in towards Sam with a stage whisper, “It’s _Bobby_. Shouldn’t we, I dunno, respect his privacy?”

Sam raised his eyebrows, “I’m sure that was your plan all along, huh?”

The devil set down Bobby’s cellphone and took another bite of egg, “So what?”

The older Winchester looked at him as if he was from a planet--which skirted _far_ too close to the truth. “It’s _Bobby_.”

“…Okay?”

“He’s--” Dean began, but Sam kicked him hard under the table as the older hunter returned to the kitchen.

Sam slipped the phone from the table down into his lap and smiled guiltily at Bobby.

With a sigh, the old man glared at them, “Knew I shouldn’t’a let him take that damn photo.”

The older Winchester looked up at him, “Do you have a…uh, a, uh, a…” he lowered his voice as if it was some kind of shameful secret, which it just might’ve been, “ _boyfriend_?”

“Why, Dean, are you nervous asking me about my gentleman caller?” Bobby replied sarcastically.

Sam slowly offered up the phone and Bobby grabbed it from him.

“It certainly seems like the ‘hip’ thing to do,” Bobby muttered and adjusted his perpetual baseball cap, giving the Winchesters a good enough look to make them both turn away awkwardly.

“Bobby, he’s…” Dean struggled forwards.

The older man interrupted him, “Alright, boys, raise your hand if your haven’t kissed a fella?”

Lucifer raised his hand and spoke, making things very clear, “I’ve kissed two.” He smirked. This statement earned a strange expression focused on him from both Sam and Dean, which gave Bobby more time to gather his thoughts.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Bobby continued, “’s’name’s Crowley.”

Lucifer snapped his focus onto Bobby, “Crowley? As in, the Crowley?”

Sam and Dean turned to each other and shrugged, neither knowing exactly what was going on.

Bobby rubbed a hand through his beard, “Yeah, that one.”

The younger Winchester glanced between the devil and the old hunter, “Who’s Crowley?”

Lucifer leaned back in his chair and gestured to Bobby, “I won’t ruin the surprise. Go ahead.”

The older man wrung his hands together, “Crowley is…”

Sam’s brain started to connect things, but he stayed silent, mouth open and expecting Bobby to somehow _not_ say what he was thinking. There wasn’t any way around it, really. It had to be.

“Yes?” the devil prompted, drumming his fingers on the table.

Bobby shot a glare in Lucifer’s direction, “A demon. Alright?” Dean’s mouth opened and closed in shock. “Oh, don’t look so scandalized. Your brother was snuggling Satan in my guest room this morning.”

Sam choked and coughed, eyes wide. Lucifer simply bit his lip and eyed him.

The older Winchester placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “Sammy, are we gonna need to have the talk?” Sam blushed. “’Cause it would be about how you can’t sleep with the devil. He’s the devil, Sam. The devil.”

Bobby rolled his eyes, “Dean, you probably ought’a tell your angel about Crowley ’fore he does anything drastic.”

There was the disturbingly loud sound of a crash from outside the house.

“Balls.”


	25. Chapter 25

When the four of them reached the scene, Castiel had Crowley pinned to the side of the house. The demon’s hands were held up between them in surrender.

“Demon,” Castiel spat.

Dean reached out towards him, “Whoa. Normally I’d tell you to smite the crap out of him, but we might have to make an exception here.”

Crowley looked to Bobby, “A little help here, darling?”

The older Winchester turned to Bobby, “‘Darling’? Really? He’s not even American, Bobby.”

With a grumble and a mostly hidden blush, the old hunter approached and Castiel let the demon down with a frown, suspicion in his features.

Crowley straightened out his suit and eyed Bobby’s obvious nerves. He placed a hand on the hunter’s chest, “I won’t embarrass you in front of your friends.” He leaned in close. “Much.” His hand slid down as he kissed him.

Bobby quickly turned away, disappearing into the house, and Crowley smiled after him, letting his gaze linger in what Dean found to be disturbingly real adoration before turning to Lucifer and the Winchesters. “Ah, you must be Sam and Dean. I’ve heard so much about you.” His nostrils flared as he looked straight at the devil, “Lucifer. Lovely.” The word dripped with sarcasm.

“Hey, I’m on this whole Team Free Will side.” The devil shrugged, giving Crowley an appraising stare, getting the feeling that the demon had rather a lot of disdain for him already.

“Really?” Crowley asked, cocking an eyebrow. “No apocalypse for you? What about the plan?”

“I spent the last sixteen years sure that I was only human. Caring about”--he made air quotes--“‘the plan’ wasn’t high on my agenda.” He didn’t like thinking too hard about what he _had_ cared about. It was all gone now.

“Right.” Crowley didn’t look convinced.

Sam felt the need to speak for the devil’s sake, “I really don’t think he’s trying for the apocalypse.” Dean muttered something to the effect of “at least not until he’s gotten into your pants,” but the younger Winchester pressed on, “Besides, how do we know _you’re_ on our side?”

“My lover here hasn’t mentioned?”

Dean nudged his brother and whispered, “Dude, this is so creepy.”

Continuing to ignore his brother, Sam replied to the demon, “Mentioned what?”

“The whole reason we met was because I wanted to prevent the apocalypse as badly as he did. I helped him, he helped me, we made a… _deal_ ”--Dean’s mouth opened to protest--“but I didn’t hold him to it after we--”

The older Winchester stuck his fingers in his ears and started humming as loudly as he could.

Lucifer glanced sideways at Sam, “Is he humming the Stones?”

The younger Winchester nodded, rolling his eyes.

Castiel made himself known, tight to Dean’s side, “I don’t understand.”

Lucifer gestured as if putting together an equation, “What I’m getting is, Crowley met Bobby at some kind of anti-apocalypse get-together, they started boning, and it all makes Dean very uncomfortable.”

“That about sums it up,” Crowley clasped his hands together, “but I never thought I’d be working with the devil.”

Dean squinted at him, “But you’re a _demon_.”

“Shhh, don’t tell Bobby,” Crowley stage-whispered conspiratorially. He shook his head, “You can’t _really_ think things are so simple, can you?” He looked to Castiel and back to Dean, “Is he doing the work of God?”

“Well, he’s--”

“Exactly.” The demon took a step towards the door, “And if no one’s going to be smiting, I suggest we continue this conversation indoors.” He inclined his head in the direction Bobby had left in.

When they got into the house, the conversation continued but the devil was distracted. He waited what he felt was a much longer than appropriate or necessary amount of time, during which things calmed down and sizzled out and Crowley embarrassed Bobby and grossed out Dean by calling the older hunter things like “dear” and “Robert”--it just didn’t seem right, he was _Bobby_ , damn it.

Lucifer gripped Sam’s arm, “Mind if I steal you real quick?”

With a glance around the room, the younger Winchester looked at him with concern, “Sure. What’s up?” The devil led him into the bathroom and Sam spun around in confusion, “Wha--mmph.”

Lucifer pushed him back against the door, smiling against the Winchester’s mouth before delving his tongue in as it opened in surprise.

It took a second for the shock to wear off, but soon Sam’s hands were roaming Lucifer’s back, one sliding down to grip his ass. “We shouldn’t,” he mumbled, but each kiss came with more fervor on both sides.

“Why the fuck not?” Lucifer bit Sam’s lip, trailing kisses down his jaw and sucked at his neck, flicking open the other boy’s fly.

“What are you…” A hand wrapped around him and he had to be very careful to not draw unwanted attention.

Lucifer slid his tongue up Sam’s throat to his ear, “Making up for this morning.”

  “But--” He bit his lip as Lucifer stroked him inside his jeans.

“Also,” the devil rested his forehead against Sam’s, “you’re fucking hot.”

Sam’s hand rubbed against the front of Lucifer’s own jeans, making the blonde groan, but with just the right tilt of his head, he could capture it between them in another kiss, the tip of his tongue swirling across Lucifer’s lips.

Lucifer pulled Sam’s cock free, fumbling with eagerness, pushing Sam’s jeans down his hips, and adjusted his grip. “This okay?” he murmured against Sam’s jaw and kissed him again. He ran his thumb over the head and could already feel a bead of pre-come forming.

Sam didn’t want to have all the attention. This was far too knew for that. He unbuttoned Lucifer’s jeans, unzipping them as slowly as he could force himself to. Nothing under them but skin. Fuck. He pulled the boy’s cock out and began to work on it, but the devil bit his lip and it bordered on painful. “What was that for?”

“Let me do this,” Lucifer told him, but with their bodies pressed so tight together, his own cock rubbed against Sam. It wasn’t like earlier, there was nothing between them, just the glorious feeling of skin on skin and heat. His hand adjusted, taking both of them in it, he jerked, nuzzling into Sam’s neck.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The Winchester’s head lolled back against the door and Lucifer managed a breathy chuckle before shushing him. “Wait.” The devil’s hand stopped and Sam pulled his shirt off over his head, then Lucifer’s, forcing the blonde to let go a second. “Okay, we’re good.” His mouth found Lucifer’s again and the devil’s hand returned.

He was close. Lucifer kissed him more aggressively, trying to prevent either of them from making too much noise. Another couple of strokes and that would be it. He could feel Sam pressing against him harder, needy. Then, he was coming, Sam only a second later, wet against his hand and shooting sloppily over their chests and stomachs.

Lucifer pulled back and took in the sight--the other boy panting and marked. “That’s a good look on you,” he breathed, smirking.

Sam tilted his head forward and smiled a little, “I could say the same about you.”


	26. Chapter 26

Dean watched Bobby and Crowley’s interactions carefully, uneasy around the demon. Bobby wasn’t overly affectionate, nor did Dean expect him to be, but Crowley sort of…was. Crowley would touch Bobby’s arm before he spoke, wrapped an arm around his waist, placed his head on his shoulder to look at the book Bobby was thumbing through.

It was unnerving, especially since Bobby didn’t seem to protest it in any way. It hit Dean then that Bobby was probably _used to it_ , maybe even _liked_ it.

His father figure had shacked up with a demon and he could barely bring himself to show an angel much less than rejection--and that one kiss.

He’d been so caught up in watching Bobby and Crowley and their…inexplicable togetherness, that he’d kind of ignored the others. Castiel was perusing Bobby’s bookshelves, which was pretty normal, but where was Sam? And Lucifer for that matter?

~

After they cleaned up, Sam played with his shirt a bit, “What is this that we’re doing?”

Lucifer shrugged, “What does it matter? We’re sixteen--” he tilted his head as if calculating and looked back to Sam, “-- _ish_.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m guessing means we can’t be held responsible for any of this, right?”

“Yup.” The devil grinned.

“And you also know that that’s total bullshit, right?”

Lucifer placed a finger over Sam’s lips, “Shhh, you’re ruining it.”

After another minute of play, Sam exited the bathroom and found Dean coming towards him, his hand automatically went to the knob behind him, pulling the door shut. “Hey.”

Dean gave him a weird look, “How long were you in there?”

“I don’t know.” He gives his brother an equally strange stare, “A normal amount of time...?”

“Any idea where Luci’s gone?”

The younger Winchester snorted, “What are you, his chaperone?”

“Well, let’s see, there are demons and frigging _archangels_ after him, I don’t think keeping an eye on him is weird.”

Sam shrugged, “I guess.”

“Hey.”

The brothers turned, surprised to see Lucifer standing behind Dean. Sam’s eyes went wide for a second before it hit him--of course the devil had powers like Castiel’s, just because he’d only seen him do that healing thing once didn’t mean anything. He also couldn’t help seeing the human side of him more and more. “Hey,” the younger Winchester returned, regaining his senses. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” the second Dean looked down, Lucifer gave Sam a wink.

“Alright,” Dean announced, “I’m gonna go get showered. There’s not enough brain bleach in the world to make me feel clean again.” He shuddered and walked off.

Sam knew no matter how disturbing it might be, they both thought it was kind of nice for Bobby to have someone, even if Crowley was a demon as well too physically affectionate, almost sickeningly so. He closed his eyes and shook his head, “I forgot you could do the whole…” he waved his hand, “thing.”

“Yeah,” Lucifer nodded. “I try to forget that, too.”

For a second, Sam thought he could see sadness there, but the devil immediately brightened up, “So, what’s for lunch?”

~

A week passed by without incident. Of the archangel sort, at least.

Sam attempted to spend a night alone on the couch, but woke up with Lucifer tucked in close to him. They had ended up rolling--it sounds much nicer than _falling_ \--down to the floor and what started as a playful wrestle over whose fault it was ended with them making out on the floor. Lucifer had somehow managed to get the upper hand with only his human strength, pinning Sam’s wrists above his head. He’d had to lean down pretty far to do it, with Sam wiggling under them, and Sam had seen his way to victory, just a press of lips away. Then, slowly, Lucifer’s grip relaxed, Sam’s hands found his waist, and their mouths worked lazily together, the soft sounds of it echoing in the dead silence of the house.

Unfortunately, Bobby had woken up and as they heard the creak of the wood, they scrambled away.

Dean had very different problems that week. There was the him-and-Cas thing, but that seemed to be going smoother now. He just needed to think before he spoke and stop putting up all his defenses. It didn’t help that he felt like he was in a house brimming with tension of a nature he didn’t want to think about too hard given its other occupants.

He’d…he’d walked in on Bobby leaned back over his desk and Crowley kissing him. He was pretty sure he caught a hint of tongue, but he’d bolted out of the room so fast he hoped he had just shaken his brain up. Some things were sweet--like Crowley helping Bobby make pancakes--but this was one of those things that was far too close to walking in on your parents fucking. Not that he considered Crowley anything remotely close to a parent and he felt he’d been extremely lucky that they hadn’t been…getting down. It was too weird to say fucking about Bobby. He owed the guy some respect, whatever that entailed.

He had tried to take Castiel off the side, to maybe kiss him again, but what he found leads us back to the present.

Lucifer was sitting on top of the washing machines, legs wrapped around Sam’s waist and hands flat against his chest as they made out. Two pairs of eyes shot to him guiltily, faces red from embarrassment, he hoped.

The devil unhooked his feet from one another around Sam, “It’s…not what it looks like?”

Dean glared at him, “ _Really_?”

Lucifer hopped down from the washing machine, “Hey, it was worth a shot.”

Castiel stared curiously.

The older Winchester had thought Sam and Lucifer were getting awfully chummy, but he’d remember his brother holding the crying boy in the car and justify based on sympathy. Sam was one of--if not _the_ \--most compassionate person Dean had ever met, of course he’d want to help.

This probably wasn’t the first time they’d kissed and, now that he thought about it, they did disappear together a lot, which he would’ve noticed were he not so caught up in figuring what he was supposed to be doing. They were _teenagers_ , how could he have left them alone for a second? Especially with one being the devil and the other his baby brother. He hadn’t considered it a real issue until now, though, with the evidence of it seared into his mind--it and Bobby’s vied for weirdest.

He’d known since their dad died that he should probably give Sam “the talk.” He was sure his brother would know most everything already, but there was a certain amount he knew first hand and could add. He might have to rethink how this conversation was going to go…if he could get up the balls to have it.


	27. Chapter 27

Sam and Dean had talked some about what to do with school over the past week, as Dean would be damned if he prevented his little brother from going to college. Sam was smart and if it weren’t for the fact they’d chosen to nab Lucifer and flee, he would still be in school, earning all As and making Dean both proud and annoyed--as it should be. The older Winchester was determined to figure something out.

If somehow they could manage to get this whole business over fast, Dean would be happy. He knew hiding wasn’t helping, but he wasn’t sure how prepared they were to bring this fight to them. He hadn’t thought on it too hard yet, but he knew he’d need to soon.

Castiel and Lucifer had their own brotherly conversations, but of a different nature. Castiel told Lucifer again and again that he didn’t know exactly what was going on between himself and Dean Winchester, but Lucifer saw the way Dean looked at Cas--and how he’d open his mouth to say something, lick his lips and tell him “never mind.”

“He’s totally into you,” Lucifer told him, but Castiel was not overconfident about the whole thing. They’d still only kissed the once, but it probably would’ve been more if not for the four other people who spent most of their time in the house. They had hovered close in the kitchen a couple of nights ago, but Sam had been thirsty--he’d been upset with himself as well as them afterward, which he let the devil know quite clearly.

Fooling around was normal for them now, but it only made Dean and Castiel’s not-doing-anything more weird. Lucifer had, of course, told Sam that they’d kissed, but Castiel confirmed daily that nothing else had come of it.

Castiel was a little better at understanding things now though, with Lucifer’s help. The devil hadn’t revealed what he and Sam were doing, but he and Castiel would discuss the issues of human romance and, well, the sex stuff. The internet (and Sam’s laptop) had been both a friend and an enemy in that department, and although Lucifer needed only the finer details, he was pretty sure Cas still got the basics, at most. It was hard to tell though.

Sam and Lucifer were lucky it was today they’d been caught--kissing? Not such a big deal. After gaining a bit more confidence in the area--not that anyone would guess he lacked it--Lucifer had taken Sam back behind the house and dropped to his knees. He’d chosen the no mess version of things. He was pretty sure that he could’ve gotten Sam to say “yes” no problem that way.

Lucifer hadn’t known the full extent of how awesome blow jobs were until Sam had returned the favor the next morning.

There was a bit of a disturbing issue he had though. The thing was, he knew how the apocalypse could’ve gone. Dean as the archangel Michael against him, in his vessel. Who he was, Nick, wouldn’t have any problems containing him, not when he was him. It was a human body he’d grown, perfect for him in every way. But…if circumstances were different, he knows his vessel would’ve been Sam Winchester.

He’d realized when they’d been talking a few nights ago. How Mary Winchester had died, their father’s vendetta against the demon they called “Yellow Eyes.”

Azazel. That had told him everything.

He was glad things had worked out differently, that Sam Winchester, the boy who had sympathy even for the devil, would never have to find himself in that horrible future, pitted against his older brother and burnt out of his body.

Lucifer should, however, figure out some way to tell Sam this so if he ever found out some other way, he wouldn’t think the devil was using him--tricking him--because, honestly? He really, really liked Sam. The more time he spent with him, the more he could see that kind-hearted person he wanted to be near, and that had nothing to do with sex.

Okay, but the sex stuff, that was nice, too. He couldn’t help it, he had needs and this body only fueled him on. Who knew how long he was really gonna get here? When it came down to it, he’d rather let himself be destroyed than start up the apocalypse and ruin everything, if mostly for Sam’s sake.

Yeah, he was going to take as much as Sam was willing--no, _wanting_ to give.

There wasn’t anything he wanted to miss out on.

~

Getting caught making out with the devil wasn’t nearly as bad as your brother finding you sucking his cock. Sam could at least consider himself lucky in that.

For that matter, _Dean_ was lucky. Sam doubted he’d have much enjoyed that either.

Dean was less lucky in his own love life. Sam sometimes wondered about “accidentally” locking his brother and the angel alone in a room together. It wouldn’t work, of course, since Castiel could mojo them out of there. Sam secretly hoped that if they tried, Cas would just pretend he couldn’t use his powers.

Castiel wasn’t a good liar though.

It’d have to happen naturally. Somehow.

He couldn’t exactly think of a good reason since Lucifer had made above on him that basically consisted of “let’s make out.” Not that _that_ hadn’t worked out rather well for them, but it wasn’t really advice he could give to his brother…although maybe he _should_ at this point.

Sam had no doubt Castiel was in love with his brother and he was fairly sure the opposite was true as well. It had taken him a year and a half and Lucifer’s mockery to get them to even _kiss_ , what was it gonna take before Dean with his thick skull would make another move? Even just a small one.

He’d push where he could find the opportunity, and with Bobby and Crowley’s constant affection, it wouldn’t be hard to point out the similarities.

For now though, his concentration was mostly focused on Lucifer.


	28. Chapter 28

Dean had walked in on far too many people making out in Bobby’s house. His baby brother and his father figure with the devil or a demon and he knew he should be more upset about _who_ they were with than anything else, but he couldn’t help thinking, “ _Sam_ and _Bobby_ are getting more action than I am. _Sam and Bobby_.” Wasn’t it his job to hook up with questionable women and theirs to scowl at him for it, not the other way around?

He even sort of had someone. A someone he really shouldn’t be so afraid to go after since he’d already hurt him so much that all he could really do now was give him some sort of…not-pain. Dean could only manage to think this so far, he found acting on it too intimidating.

Which was ridiculous.

Castiel wasn’t going to think he was being awkward. The angel had been by his side for a year and a half, learning most human interactions from _him_ \--and Sam, but him more so than anyone. He just needed to figure out some way to…do _something_. He hadn’t quite figured that part out yet. Taking Castiel to the side had ended with him seeing his brother make out with Lucifer, and dates? That didn’t seem like the right way either.

He was normally so good at this.

~

Bobby sent Dean and Castiel out to get groceries, because, as he told them, “there was a fine line between guests and freeloaders.” Besides, he needed to eat to, and with Dean and two teenage boys to feed, his cupboards--which usually weren’t _overly_ full--were nearly stripped bare.

Crowley appeared behind him, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist. “So, what are you going to do about Lucifer?”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“I mean the devil himself is currently residing in your house, Bobby. You know peace can’t last with Satan in your guest room.” He tilted his nose into the crook of Bobby’s neck. “Don’t you want me to feel safe, darling?”

Bobby swatted Crowley’s arms away and turned around to scoff at him, “The pot calling the kettle black?”

The demon pouted, “But I’m different.” He pulled the hunter in against him and kissed him.

“I’m not so sure,” Bobby grumbled, but the accusation intended was lost as he let Crowley kiss him again.

~

They took the Impala to the store, rather than flight. Not only was Dean far fonder of his baby than not knowing how he was getting from place to place, but it gave him almost mandatory alone time with Castiel.

He drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel. “What’s your opinion on this whole…we caught my brother making out with your brother who also happens to be Satan thing?”

“Although I am suspicious, Lucifer has not done anything threatening,” Castiel answered and Dean nearly smacked himself in the head.

“I was talking more about the hooking up thing,” the hunter specified.

“Oh.”

Dean glanced over, watching Castiel’s brow furrow as he thought on it. “And?”

“Lucifer likes your brother.”

“Yeah, I think I got that when I saw his tongue in Sam’s mouth.”

The angel shrugged, “It could have been much worse.”

Dean shuddered, “And that’s the problem right there. I mean, dude’s not really human, even.”

Castiel’s gaze shot to the hunter’s face, “No, he isn’t. And neither am I.”

The Winchester didn’t know why he always had to make things worse, but here he was. “I didn’t-- But you’re…different.”

“I’m not human. Lucifer--that body, it’s his own. This,” he gestured to the body he was in, “is merely a vessel.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a second, “I know.”

They’d be to the store in only a couple of minutes, so the hunter pulled to the side of the road and prayed to a god he knew wasn’t listening that no archangels were coming.

“Cas…” He looked at the angel. He’d hurt his feelings, that much was very, very apparent. How was he supposed to fix it though? He didn’t _like_ thinking about the fact that it wasn’t all just Castiel, that some poor sap had tethered himself to an angel out of faith or guilt or whatever it was. He’d even met the man, briefly--Jimmy Novak from Pontiac, Illinois. The guy had accepted his fate, given up his family to protect them and for the “greater good.” What would that guy think of how Cas felt about him?

As if reading his thoughts--which Dean often hoped he didn’t--Castiel spoke, “His soul is gone.”

“Jimmy’s?”

“Yes. When Raphael…killed me, he was given his reward in Heaven, freed from this body.”

“That’s…depressing. Wait, Raphael? The one from the road the other day?”

“Yes.” Castiel folded his hands in his lap.

Dean’s mind was going in so many different directions, it took him time to sort through them and choose what to ask. He chose the most selfish one. “So, if Jimmy’s gone, then, doesn’t that…sort of make the body yours? I mean, you’re the only one in there.”

“I find it difficult to think of it that way, but you could say that, yes.” Castiel’s eyes met his and Dean could see that unearthly thing hovering just below the surface.

That was enough though, to give him courage. He nearly asked permission before remembering how so not his style that was.

Dean leaned over and kissed the angel, surprised when Cas eagerly responded, even cupping the hunter’s face in his hands to keep him there. With a muffled sound, Dean placed one hand on the back of Castiel’s neck and the other on the steering wheel still.

It was a bit awkward in this position, but now that he’d done it, Dean was going to let it run its course. He teased the angel’s bottom lip and Castiel’s mouth slipped open, tongue meeting his in a way too experienced fashion.

Despite everything in him telling him not to stop, Dean had to pull away a second, “Have you done this before?”

The angel looked nervous, but he was too terrible a liar to come up with something other than the truth, “Lucifer--”

Dean shot back into his own seat in shock, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, _what_? You and Lucifer, too? Isn’t that, like, incest? Angelcest? Does it work that way?”

Castiel licked his lips, “I did not kiss Lucifer.”

“Did he kiss you? Is he just trying to get into Sam’s--”

“Dean.”

It was that stern tone that always caught Dean’s attention, that he had initially used for serious apocalypse business and had adapted for wrangling the hunter in whenever he needed to be. Dean swallowed, pouting just a bit, like a chastised child, “Yeah, Cas?”

“Kiss me again.”


	29. Chapter 29

“Wanna fuck me?”

Sam goggled at him, “ _What_?”

Lucifer propped himself up on his elbows, draped across the bed. He spoke slowly, “Do you want to fuck me?”

“I…” Sam started.

“Yes?” the devil questioned.

“Lucifer…”

“What does that mean--that tone?” He sighed, letting himself fall back against the covers. “Never mind. It’s fine. I don’t want you to do it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that.” Sam crawled onto the bed next to Lucifer. The devil looked so young, like the sixteen-year-old he’d grown up as. Someone he might’ve seen walking around the halls at school, not in his classes since the boy was a grade below him. He had seemed a little nervous, nothing out of the ordinary though. It had been over a week and Sam hadn’t once remembered that sighting, but now the vision came unbidden. It had only been a glance, he’d thought nothing of it.

The Winchester leaned down, spreading his fingers across Lucifer’s chest and feeling the heart beating under his palm. He kissed him, letting himself linger over Lucifer, close enough to see details he’d never seen before while others would blur.

He pulled away again, letting himself focus on Lucifer as a whole. “Look…it’s-- well, it’s kind of a big deal to me. I mean, what we’ve done… That’s farther than I’ve gone with anyone else. I’ve never…” What was it about saying the words outright that made it so intimidating? “You know?”

The devil smirked, but there was a softness to it. “Me neither. Not in this body, not in a long time.”

Sam let a chuckle escape, “I wouldn’t even know what to do, to be honest.”

Lucifer placed his hand over Sam’s, squeezing it lightly, reassuringly, “It’s not like you’d be doing it alone. I’d help.”

The smile on the taller boy’s face was genuine. Lucifer wasn’t usually so calming. It was the first time he could really see how much the devil actually _cared_ about him. He didn’t know if he’d have to attribute it to that piece of humanity Lucifer now possessed--and it was a natural reaction to attach yourself to someone who was _there_ when you’d lost so much--or if even the devil, as he used to be, had feelings for him.

It wasn’t impossible, like his mind wanted to tell him. He saw the way Castiel was with his brother and he wasn’t human in the slightest--that could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt just how far those feelings could go, no humanity needed.

Lucifer licked his lips, “So? What are you thinking?”

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Sam thought over what he wanted. He liked Lucifer a lot. More than he’d liked anyone before, although they’d been placed into a situation that forced them together. It had given him an opportunity he’d never have considered otherwise.

The devil pushed himself up, nudging his shoulder against Sam’s. He faced the end of the bed and Sam toward the headboard, hip to hip. “Hey, don’t worry yourself. We don’t have to do it now. Or at all.” He rested his forehead on Sam’s shoulder.

“Tonight,” Sam said finally.

Lucifer moved away far enough to look him in the eyes. There was anxiousness rising in him, but not necessarily the bad kind. “Alright.”

“Maybe. If we can.”

“Whatever you want.”

~

Things had been better between them since their trip to the store. It had been easy between them again, Dean explaining foods whether Castiel cared or not.

It was like before, when no one had said anything about their more than platonic feelings. Next to Sam and sometimes Bobby, Castiel was the being Dean found himself the most comfortable around. He actually thought it was pretty amusing to to explain away Castiel’s weirdness, as well as to witness more of it himself.

This time, though, he could feel that something else behind it, that thing he’d convinced himself was simply camaraderie. It was nice now though--Cas had been very clear about his feelings. Dean had worried Cas might try to hold his hand or something, some little sign of endearment he could scold away since they were in public, but when none came--as he later remembered _made a lot of sense_ \--he nearly grabbed the angel’s hand in his own to spite him.

That was ten kinds of stupid, but Dean eventually sated his urges by stealing away to cart to push it himself, telling Cas to hold an arm in his to make sure he kept up with him.

Castiel had appeared to almost question it, but, in the end, he had gone along with it. When they returned to Bobby’s house, Dean loaded the angel with groceries and sent him in.

That was yesterday, though.

Today, he should deal with his baby brother…or devise a plan to do so. He didn’t want to break up what was going on between Sam and Lucifer--well, maybe he did, but who could tell. Was he going to give the devil a sex talk, too?

Not that he was going to, even if he should.

Then, there was Cas to think of. Castiel was a virgin, too. An ancient angel of the lord who’d never had reason to know sex while Dean practically considered himself an expert. Well, with him, at least, he could explain as things went.

The things Castiel had done with his tongue in Dean’s mouth though, those were things he’d never expected, never experienced, but thoroughly enjoyed. The angel’s eagerness overtook his virgin shyness--which Dean had seen firsthand--and it was wonderful.

Dean didn’t mind teaching in this case, but the less he needed to, the better it was for him. There was a reason he was usually seen in the company of experienced women rather than those he knew weren’t, and the fact that a relationship was unnecessary to have a little fun was only part of it.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I missed a day (too busy celebrating 4/20, oops) on tumblr, this chapter is about twice as long as normal. :)

Since there was plenty of food to go around, Crowley volunteered to cook. No one was sure if there would be salt in the meal, but it turned out to be some delicious pasta primavera.

There was the oddness of the six of them crowded around Bobby’s table to eat dinner, with Dean purposely placing himself between his brother and the devil.

Sam’s nerves had been eating at him all day. What would the point of waiting be? He and Lucifer couldn’t keep their hands off of each other when they were alone--or that awkward time where there was some aggressive under-the-table groping, but that had been fun, too. It’s not like they _had_ to do anything at all, not to mention anything _more_ , but it was clear they both wanted to. He may not be supremely comfortable openly discussing the subject, even just between the two of them, but it didn’t make his desires any less present.

He got the feeling it wasn’t just impulse fueling Lucifer’s eagerness. He wasn’t sure what was behind it, but when he looked at him--just out of the corner of his eye--he could see a sadness there, vulnerability Lucifer wouldn’t want to show so openly, not since he cried over his parents’ deaths in the car. He was probably still in mourning. Sam could only think it was that or coming to terms with who he was.

After dinner, Crowley curled up next to Bobby on the couch watching old cop shows Dean could probably name but Sam definitely couldn’t. It was disgustingly domestic. Sam saw even his older brother try to hide his smile at the pair of them.

Dean and Castiel were seated at the kitchen table, a beer in front of each as the hunter explained the wonders of alcohol.

It was almost too perfect, but he wasn’t going to question it. How were they still in this whole apocalypse business and yet so close to happiness?

He grabbed Lucifer’s hand and they climbed the stairs. He kept looking back to check, but everyone seemed blissfully unaware, caught up in their own little bubbles of established relationships or budding affections.

As soon as they reached the top of the stairs, Sam pulled Lucifer close, fingers entwined with his own. He kissed him, lips slowly parting, tongues teasing at one another’s, lingering. Lucifer took the lead, moving them slowly back to the room they’d been sharing. He shut the door behind them, leaning his back against as he stared at the taller boy. There was a hunger in him. He let himself savor the view for a moment, appraising where his starting point would be, before he tugged at the hem of Sam’s shirt, pulling it off over the Winchester’s head.

Sam complied, returning the favor. He hesitated, “Do we need--”  “I got it covered.” Lucifer slipped the bottle from his pocket.

The taller boy scoffed at him, “Why didn’t you just leave it up here? It’s not like we were gonna fuck on the kitchen counter.”

Lucifer’s gaze went unfocused and he sighed, “Hey, I can dream, can’t I?” He smiled and Sam did the same after rolling his eyes. “Get on the bed.”

Sam merely sat down on the edge of it, wondering what the devil would do, erection straining against his jeans.

Flicking open the button and removing his own jeans, Lucifer looked at Sam expectantly, “I think I already told you that you could fuck me, but just to be clear--yes, fuck me.” He grinned despite the sudden onset of nerves. He kneeled on the floor, helping Sam out of his remaining clothes and, placing the bottle on the floor and his hands on Sam’s thighs. He slid the flat of his tongue from base to tip and Sam could barely watch as the devil swallowed him down.

Lucifer’s stroked himself a few times as his head bobbed. He pulled off with a wet pop and pushed Sam back on the bed. He grabbed the bottle from the floor and climbed on top of him, rubbing against him as he did. He popped the cap, “Do you want to do the honors or shall I?”

“I’ll-- I’ll try,” Sam tried to say confidently, a firm hand behind him on the bed to support himself, but his voice quavered. He slicked his fingers, reaching between them, slowly slipping in a digit. He could feel the muscles around him, how tight it was. The fear that he could hurt him grew to a panic.

Lucifer could feel it in him, see it on his face. “Hey, hey,” he reassured, pulling himself from Sam’s hand. “I can do it.” He’d done it to himself before, after all--not that he’d told Sam that. He covered his fingers, allowing Sam to watch as he pushed one in, slowly going in further as he adjusted to it. He slipped another in to join it. It always hurt a little, but he thought it was worth it.

“Are you okay?”

“Perfect,” the devil replied, working himself open, letting his body relax enough that he could begin to stretch himself, adding another finger.

Sam had to swallow the lump in his throat, watching. A thought suddenly occurred to him, “What about--”  “Condoms?” Lucifer finished for him, fingers moving at a steady pace, readying himself. “We’re both basically virgins.” He slipped his hand out from between. “Besides, I don’t have them, and, at this point, I’m kinda hoping you’ll fuck me anyway.”

“Now?” Sam asked, his eyes moving up from their bodies to meet Lucifer’s.

The devil nodded, wiping his fingers on a shirt. “It’d probably be easier from behind.”

“No,” the taller boy responded quickly, “I mean…I’d just like if I could see you. I don’t want to hurt you.”  “I’ll heal.”

“Still.”   
Lucifer laid down on his back beside him, “Fine.” He encouraged Sam on top of him and after a leg slipping, they crawled further onto the bed. His hand slicked the other boy’s cock while stroking him. “You ready?”

Sam gave a little, nervous nod and Lucifer pulled him down into a kiss, wrapping a leg around Sam’s. His mouth opened, and he distracted him with tongue and teeth as he slowly drew him in closer, until Sam was right up against him.

The Winchester pushed in slowly and Lucifer hissed in a breath around the kiss. His leg tightened around him, keeping him in, lifting his hips as Sam sank into him inch by inch until he was in deep.

“You okay?” Sam asked. It was so impossibly, unbelievably tight and hot. It might have almost been unpleasant if it wasn’t so amazingly good.

Lucifer nodded. The feeling was intense, painful, but there was no way he was going to stop now. “Just…move a little.”

Hesitant, Sam complied, sliding himself out and easing back in again. “This okay?”

“Keep going.” His eyes had teared up, but he kissed Sam again to keep him from seeing and to keep himself from concentrating too much on it.

Sam began to move, and once he started, it was hard to stop. He kept himself in check though, still so scared to really hurt him.

The pain eased as they continued, not subsiding, but enough to be pushed from the front of his mind. It was starting to feel…sort of good. He raised his hips, moving them in the hopes of syncing with Sam’s, his cock enjoying the friction between them. A moan slipped from him and Sam moved faster, thrusting into him harder, but he found it easier to bear. He angled himself, rewarded as Sam hit that spot inside of him and he dug his nails into the boy’s back with strength that may not have been entirely human. He kissed him again, more desperately.

The rock of Sam’s hips became more measured, trying to do it again. It was so good. So, so good. If he could make it better for Lucifer, he’d do whatever he could.

Lucifer rolled them over, panting, straddling Sam’s hips. “Fuck.” He pivoted himself on Sam’s cock, faster, the sounds of skin gaining volume. “Sam. Fuck.”

The Winchester held the devil by the hips, “Is this good for you?”

Managing a laugh before biting his lip to keep in a moan, his thrusts became more reckless. Each time he fucked himself down and Sam’s cock hit hit prostate, he got closer and closer. The pain was no longer an issue as he chased pleasure. He slid himself up and down over and over, hands clutching at Sam’s chest for support as he rode him. “Fuck, I hope you’re fucking close.”

“I-- but I don’t want to, not--” Sam was breathing hard, his mental facilities breaking down as the choice was ripped from his hands.

Lucifer fucked him in long, quick strokes, losing rhythm in deference to speed as he went, then Sam’s fingers were scrabbling at him and he looked down into those wide eyes before they shut tight. He slowed as Sam came, working it out of him. He was so close though, he couldn’t stop now, his hand moved to his cock, stroking it, and with just a few more thrusts he was hurtling over the edge, spilling across Sam’s chest, marking him so beautifully he wanted to do it again.

He stayed atop him catching his breath before very carefully pulling himself off, flopping down next to him. “I wonder if I’ll be sore tomorrow,” he mused.

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed. “That was…awesome.”

Lucifer nodded. “Hmmm. The healing doesn’t work automatically for me, I don’t think, I have to…allow it.” Sam turned his head to look at him. “I don’t know that I want it to, not for this.”

“You are so not gonna think that in the morning.”

The devil laughed, “Probably not. But I can take care of it then.” He threw an arm across Sam’s chest, the cooling stickiness only mildly unpleasant to his blissed out brain. “No way we can just stay like this, is there?”

“Definitely not.” His eyes lingered on Lucifer’s lips as the boy frowned. “Okay, just for a bit.” He brought an arm up under Lucifer’s neck, leaning into him. “I’m sorry I…”

“I don’t think I really gave you a choice in the matter.” It was a strange feeling, but not necessarily a bad one.

They laid there in silence for a few minutes before Lucifer realized this was as good an opportunity as any to tell Sam what he knew. “You would’ve been it, you know.”

Sam blinked a few times, waking himself up from the doze he’d started, “Huh?”

“If I didn’t have this body… If I hadn’t come to earth…it would’ve been you.” He swallowed. “My vessel.”

“Oh.” That was too big a thing to react to now. What was he supposed to say? “I, um…I’m…glad,” there was a question placed on the word, “that I’m not now.” He hesitated, “I think this works out best for both of us.” He hadn’t known exactly what he was saying until it was out, but he felt the truth in the sentiment.

“Me, too.” The devil propped his head up on Sam’s shoulder. It was nice to get the information off of his chest, but he didn’t want to continue spoiling the moment. “So.”

“Hm?”

He could hear the drowsiness in Sam’s voice and smiled, “We should do this again.”

“Mmhm.” His eyes were closed. “Can you wake me up in, like, ten minutes to go shower?”

“Maybe.” He nestled himself more comfortably into Sam’s shoulder. He used the shirt from earlier to clean up some of the mess, then wrapped the comforter up and over them enough for warmth.

It wasn’t even that late, but the devil was tired. Not to mention extremely satisfied.

He didn’t know what his future would be, hell or earth or nothingness, but he knew his feelings for Sam Winchester were still growing. It was reason to keep going.


	31. Chapter 31

Dean didn’t know when Sam and Lucifer had left, but he didn’t much care. He actually got Castiel to drink a couple of beers with him and although the angel was in no way inebriated, it was fascinating to watch, especially as he began to feel it. Somewhere in his unfocused mind, he could hear the sounds of water in the pipes, probably the shower.

He must’ve paused trying to identify the noise, because Castiel was looking at him questioningly when he came back to his surroundings. He laughed, quirking up the corner of his mouth, “Guess I had more than I thought. Sorry.” He finished off the beer in front of him, playing idly with the cap. Their eyes locked onto one another’s. He wondered if they hadn’t met so obviously if he could have possibly mistook Castiel for human. It seemed almost impossible now, since he’d studied him so closely.

Everything about him seemed to scream of his unearthliness.

The angel sipped slowly at his beer, asking the occasional question, but it was comfortable in the silence between them. Dean wasn’t much for talking at the moment, mostly just watching as the angel drank down the bottle little by little.

A yawn came on and he checked his watch. It was around midnight and he was tired, but he didn’t really want to leave Castiel alone with Bobby and Crowley--besides, they probably wouldn’t mind some space, to do things Dean had seen more than he would have liked to.

He gathered his bottles and placed them on the counter, “Come on.” He nodded his head at Castiel and towards the stairs, heading for his room.

Once up the stairs, Dean stopped outside the room Sam and Lucifer had been sharing--which he didn’t know how he could’ve prevented without seeming like an overbearing parent, which he wasn’t, just a bit nosy and protective. He pressed his ear to the door. All quiet. He shrugged and continued to his own.

The hunter looked back to see his angel waiting at the stairs, he motioned to him to follow.

Downstairs, Crowley tilted his head up towards Bobby’s, leaning on him a little less. He trailed a finger down the man’s shoulder. “What do you think, darling? The kids have all gone to bed…” He pressed a kiss to Bobby’s jaw, slipping his fingers beneath the hunter’s shirt.

~

Nick sat at the kitchen table, rustling through his backpack. The sun was shining and his toast was half-eaten. He wondered vaguely if he was running late for school, but it didn’t matter overmuch as his first period teacher was always late himself.

His mom must have already left for work--he couldn’t hear her walking around upstairs, getting ready.

Sam walked in the door and, although it seemed a little odd, he smiled at him. “Hey.”

The other boy didn’t smile, pulling out a chair and sitting down in it stiffly.

“You okay?”

Drumming his fingers on the table, Sam’s fast twisted into a sneer, “Doesn’t it seem a little weird for an… _angel_ ,” he said the word as if it was wrong, painful for him to even use in this context, “to be dreaming?”

“What are you talking about?” Then, it all came back to him. He was Lucifer. His years in hell, watching the people of earth destroy themselves. He’d been happy to see others suffering, seeing them as deserving of any pain that came to them. His parents… They were dead now. It was all his fault. He swallowed hard and managed to shrug. “Well, it’s my mind, I can do what I want with it.”

“And your vessel, apparently.” Sam’s face turned sadly serious, “I was a virgin, you know. I had plans to go to college, meet a nice girl, get married. Not get stuck in the middle of the apocalypse. But I guess I didn’t have much choice in that, did I? I was…chosen.”

“I didn’t know it was you. Not until you told me about Azazel, not…” He shook his head. “This is ridiculous. I’m dreaming.” The guilt still gnawed at him, but he promised himself again that he wouldn’t force Sam into anything--that he’d protect him. “Besides, I have my own body. No vessel required.”

It wasn’t a smile, not really, but the mockery of one on Sam’s face, “And if something happens to that one?”

“Then it’s gone and so am I.”

“But what about the plan?” Sam’s face melted away as he spoke, voice deepening, leaving a dark-skinned man in a suit in his place.

“Hello, Raphael. Lovely of you to visit. It’s been a few millennia.” He tilted himself back in his chair, balancing on two legs of it.

The archangel smiled, “Lucifer.” He folded his hands on top of the table, “Screwing your own vessel. Interesting choice.”

“Sam isn’t going to be my vessel. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not participating in this whole…apocalypse thing.” He eyed Raphael carefully, but was careful not to drop his confidence.

“So you say.” Condescension oozed from his every word.

“I’m not doing it. And he’s not going to get dragged into this.”

“Why don’t you tell me where you are and we can have this conversation in…person?”

His tone was suggestive, but Lucifer would never fall for such obvious trickery, “Why don’t you just track us down?”

“You know I can’t.”

“Yeah, and it’s going to stay that way.” He smiled, raising his eyebrows, “So, we’re done here.”

Raphael’s toothless smile broadened, “I tell you what, you do your part, even after you burn him out of his body and take control, little Sammy gets a nice piece of heaven--he can even see his precious brother.”

It was worth a second’s hesitation, but not real consideration. “No.”

The archangel leaned forward, “And if you don’t, who knows what will become of him… Well, besides me.” He sat back again. “Do you understand?”

“I’ll stop you.” The devil’s jaw set stiffly. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to Sam--the boy who should’ve been frightened of him but had instead showed unending compassion.

Chuckling, Raphael responded, “Really? And how’s that?”

Lucifer rocked his head from side to side in consideration, “Hmmm. Maybe something like this?” He stabbed the angel blade down through Raphael’s chest.

The archangel’s eyes widened, “Where did you--”

He twisted it, watching the light get brighter around him, “It’s my dream, asshole.”

“I’ll make good on my word. It’s your choice,” he said, holding a hand over his wound.

“If you even come near Sam, I’ll fucking kill you.” He pulled the blade out. “I might be out of practice, but I’m more powerful than you ever were, even now.”

There was a glint of fear in Raphael’s eyes and he was gone in a burst of light.

It wouldn’t keep him away.


	32. Chapter 32

Crowley listened to the sound of Bobby snoring, wondering if she should wake him and bring him to the bedroom. He probably should have already, but it was hard to wake him when he looked so peaceful. After their…intimacy, Bobby had nodded off and infomercials had started running on the TV. Crowley had switched off the TV, leaving only a lamp on to leaf through one of Bobby’s books under.

There was aloud thunk upstairs and Bobby woke up, finding himself still on the couch, remote hanging loosely between his fingers. “Boys?” he called. “Crowley?”

He saw the demon wave from the corner, sipping at his mug, “Hello, darling.” He blew on his drink, “Want me to go check it out?”

Bobby eyed him, “Are you drinkin’ tea again?”

Crowley smirked at him, “Yes, because that’s what civilized people do.”

“You aren’t people.”

Crowley shrugged. “Shall I go?”

The hunter waited a moment, listening, “Don’t hear anything.”

“Wouldn’t want to walk in on anyone _en flagrante delicto_.” Crowley sipped at his Earl Grey. “Aren’t you worried?”

“About what?” Bobby responded, sitting up.

“About your boys and their…indiscretions.” His eyes met the man’s and he raised an eyebrow, taking another drink from his mug.

“Dean’s a grown man, what he’s too stubborn to say or do to that angel is his own business.” Bobby retrieved his cap from the floor and placed it on the table.

“And the younger one?” Crowley sat down next to him, whispering conspiratorially, “How do you feel about Lucifer getting his fingers on _Sam_?”

“I try not to think about it,” the hunter sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

The demon placed a hand on his thigh, “Bobby…”

“Look, it’s none of my business.” He leaned his head against Crowley’s shoulder, wondering how long he had to keep talking before he could start sleeping.

“I’m sorry, dear, but you’ve told me how much you care about those boys. He’s the _devil_ , Bobby. There’s a reason he’s the big man downstairs.” He rested his chin on top of Bobby’s head.

“What do you want me to do? They’re _teenagers_.” His eyelids were heavy, it was hard to keep them open.

Crowley’s hand rubbed soothingly over the man’s back, “We can talk about it in the morning. I’ll take you to bed.”

“Hey,” Bobby half-scowled as the demon helped him up, “No funny business.”

Shaking his head, Crowley walked him to the bedroom, “Have I ever taken advantage of you, Bobby?”

“Yes,” Bobby grumbled as Crowley was helping him out of his jeans and sliding him down into the bed.

“You wound me,” the demon responded, clutching a hand to his chest dramatically.

The hunter smiled, eyes closing, “C’mere, ya idjit.”

Crowley leaned down, placing a hand on Bobby’s chest, his thumb making small circles on the skin above the shirt’s neckline. “Goodnight, darling,” he pressed a kiss to the hunter’s mouth.

Now that Bobby was tucked in to his bed, it was time for Crowley to work. He needed to find out as much as he could about the archangels and their tracking abilities as he could, but so far his leads had been rather fruitless.

~

When Dean hit the floor, he giggled--no, he _did not_ giggle, he…laughed. In a manly fashion.

“I apologize,” the angel told him from the bed, “I was…too aggressive.”

“’S fine, Cas.” His tongue darted out and ran across his lips. No one had ever kissed him off a bed before. He stretched across the floor, “I mean, not that you should make it your goal here, but it’s no big deal.” He climbed back onto the bed--well, tried to before Castiel grasped his arm and hauled him back on like he weighed nothing. “Damn. I always forget how strong you are.”

“I’m a soldier.”

“Yeah, and I’m…just a love machine.” He didn’t know _how_ he was this drunk. It was probably how the alcohol mixed with his nerves, but he couldn’t help it.

Castiel frowned at him, “Do you want to try again?”

It was strange to see the angel without his ever-present trench coat, Dean hadn’t since Lucifer had healed him, but this was far different than that. Castiel was still wearing that damn suit--Dean made a mental note to get him into something else before debating over how weird it would be to see Cas _not_ in it…that train of thought, however, quickly became too distracting. “’Course,” he answered instead, voice strained.

The angel tentatively placed a hand on Dean’s hip--research had shown that even small amounts of physical contact were important. He leaned in close.

Their lips met and Dean’s eyes closed. He rolled onto his back, forcing Castiel half-over him. The kiss was languid, accompanied the soft smack of sticky lips and the sound of Dean’s breathing. Castiel’s tongue searched out his, meeting and sliding against each other.

This was nice. Really nice. Dean moved his mouth in sync with Castiel’s, enjoying the ease of it.

Until he fell asleep, that was.

Castiel stopped, sighing. He pulled back and looked at the man, the way his lips were parted and his breathing had slowed, the way his long eyelashes fell across his cheeks.

The angel knew he was beautiful, but it wasn’t simply his physical appearance. Castiel could see that soul inside of him, that amazing thing calling out to him. He’d never seen anything like it. It was as if it was made to draw him in. How could he have refused Dean’s wishes to save the things he loved?

He remembered what Dean said about it being “creepy” when he watched him sleep, so Castiel laid down beside him.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been--human time was a difficult thing for him to grasp--but Dean shook slightly. Nightmares.

Castiel’s fingertips pressed with just enough force to be comforting without waking him. The tiniest exertion of his grace and he sent Dean into peaceful slumber.

He wondered vaguely if Dean knew how he loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There hasn't been any decision made one way or another yet, but how do people feel about top!Cas?


	33. Chapter 33

Bobby couldn’t go back to sleep, so he shuffled into his kitchen. It was still early, not even particularly light out. He needed coffee.

He flicked the switch and nearly grabbed a gun, “Why’re you _up_?”

“Oh, you know, preventing my brothers from dream stalking me,” Lucifer answered, wondering if he should feel embarrassed in front of the older man in nothing but boxers and one of Sam’s t-shirts. He found himself uncaring on the issue. “You?”

“It’s my house,” Bobby replied, eyeing him cautiously as he approached the coffee maker. Already had fresh grounds in it, all he needed to do was switch it on. He wasn’t sure why, but when Crowley did considerate things like that, he couldn’t help feeling suspicious about what the demon was up to. It wasn’t like he could keep watch exactly.

The devil rested his elbow on the table, head on his hands and watched, “Where’s your demon?”

Bobby glared at him, as if Lucifer must have known his suspicions. “I’d rather not think about it,” he grumbled.

“I don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

Lucifer stretched his arms out in front of him, speaking casually, “Aren’t hunters, you know, supposed to _hunt_ demons?” He rolled his gaze to Bobby, “Not…play house?”

“What is it with you two? One’d almost guess you weren’t from the same neighborhood.” He sat down across from him anyway as he waited for the coffee pot to fill.

“We’re not,” Lucifer responded, indignation flaring.

“Uh-huh. Almost forgot, daddy kicked you outta the house.”

“ _Michael_ ,” Lucifer corrected.

“Yeah, and on whose orders?” Bobby sighed. “Sorry, glad I never had to deal with brothers and sisters.”

Collapsing onto the table, Lucifer exhaled a long breath, “Cas is nice, at least.”

It might be nosy, but Bobby was curious, “Any idea what’s up with those two?”

“Cas and Dean?” the devil confirmed. “You mean besides being desperately in love with each other?”

The hunter huffed out a little laugh, “Yeah, that.”

“No idea. Castiel told me some really lovey-dovey shit about his feelings, but that’s about it.” Lucifer didn’t even hesitate to speak again, “No, but really, how does a hunter end up with a demon--the king of the crossroads, no less?”

“What are your intentions with that boy?” Bobby retorted.

“Don’t worry, all of my untoward ones have already been realized.” He smirked and Bobby’s eyes narrowed. “Really though, I don’t want you to _completely_ hate me. I like Sam. He’s smart and he’s actually really nice to me.” He shrugged. “But why should you believe the devil?”

After staying silent a moment, Bobby chuckled, “Well, I _am_ shacked up with a demon. Who am I to judge?”

Lucifer gave him a genuine smile but it lasted too long and it began to fall, “Wait, are we _bonding_?”

Bobby’s face turned mildly disturbed and he stood up, “Coffee?”

“Yes, please. I _really_ don’t want to go back to sleep.”

Lucifer smiled again once the hunter couldn’t see him. He could see why the Winchesters were so fond of him.

~

Crowley killed the demon. Another waste of time. Archangels seemed like the obvious, arrogant types, not ones who’d hide themselves well. After all, they had reason to be confident--not much that could kill them and nothing currently on earth more powerful, except for, perhaps, the devil.

He found himself annoyed at how many of them were rooting for the apocalypse. Did _demons_ really have such blind faith in the plan? Did they not see that their captain had long abandoned ship?

He liked earth. He liked his job. Although he could never let it slip to any of hell’s inhabitants, he liked Bobby--and the Winchesters, by extension.

Everyone was so eager to end it all and he just wanted to shake them by their collective throats and ask them if they knew how much they’d be missing.

Besides, Crowley was a creature of survival, always had been, so why would he want to start the apocalypse?

~

Sam woke up alone and found himself sore in places he usually wasn’t. Had he really fucked the devil last night?

It was times like these that he wondered if his whole life was some long, drug-induced trip…and if so, whether or not it might end.

Or maybe he was just crazy.

Despite everything, he sort of hoped it was real. He felt like it must be all kinds of fucked up to think, but Lucifer was actually a really cool person…being…whatever. He enjoyed being around him, talking to him…and, yeah, fucking him last night.

He had a vague thought about how many people would have said the devil had stolen their “innocence” before he nodded off again, hoping Lucifer would return soon.

~

Castiel had wrapped an arm tentatively around Dean when the Winchester had turned and stayed with him through the night. He could feel the man stirring and wasn’t sure whether it would be stranger for him to stay or go.

Dean pushed back closer to him and Castiel froze. It seemed Dean was not going to wake yet. He took the opportunity to wrap his arm tighter around him.

It did feel somewhat protective, like he was shielding the man from harm. He was fairly certain Dean would hate for him to think of it that way, so he tried not to, but humans were so utterly helpless in sleep.

He couldn’t say the word outright to Dean, but he was his guardian--official or unofficial, it didn’t matter. He wanted to be there, wanted to keep Dean from whatever it was in his power to stop--and beyond that even.

Castiel whispered soft words in Enochian, things Dean would never understand, but he felt it would nevertheless comfort them both.

If he could eat, he could probably sleep, but doing so would leave Dean vulnerable.

The hunter slept well that night--better than he had in years--dreaming of wings and unearthly blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More responses to the top!Cas question would be appreciated. :)


	34. Chapter 34

Lucifer wasn’t sure what had set him off, but he was beginning to wonder if he should be around them. If Raphael--who was probably _pissed_ \--found a way to track him down, he didn’t want him to find Sam and the others.

They’d all helped him.

The devil realized though, that despite how wonderful and self-sacrificing the idea seemed, there was a very major flaw in it. He was safest here, with them, rather than alone doing who the fuck knew what. If the archangels got to him, and the apocalypse started, it would be worse for everyone, especially the Winchesters.

He couldn’t even think of somewhere he could go. What had once been his home was also the site of his parents’ murders and he had no idea what they were saying about the three of them back in Lawrence, what with possible bodies in the school and their sudden disappearances. 

Lucifer should never have gotten so attached to Sam knowing there was a possibility he wouldn’t make it out of this, but now…the damage had already been done. And he’d like to do as much as he still could.

~

Dean was probably less surprised than he should’ve been to wake up with an angel wrapped around him, he shifted, turning himself to face him as well as putting at least breathing room’s distance between them. Castiel, of course, was awake, but he hadn’t really expected any different. “Hey.” His voice was hoarse and he was thirsty as fuck, but it could wait a minute.

He’d decided not scaring Cas off-- _as if he could_ \--was his best course of action.

“Dean,” the angel greeted. “How was your sleep?”

“Good. Excellent, actually.” His eyes flickered from where they’d been stationed on Castiel’s down to the angel’s lips, as if asking for permission. He leaned forward enough to let Cas make the choice for himself.

The angel closed the distance and Dean’s eyes slipped closed again, the soft press of chapped lips to his. They kissed, Dean’s hand resting on Castiel’s jaw, thumb stroking his cheek. 

Dean pulled away, “I guess we should give Sam and Luci ‘the talk,’ huh?”

The angel’s brow furrowed, “What talk?”

The hunter chuckled, “Don’t worry about it.”

Once he was up, he tapped gently at the door to Sam and Lucifer’s room. “You up?” He heard the familiar sound of Sam’s annoyed reaction to being woken up. Dean tentatively opened the door, noting only his brother in the room. Although he was going to talk to the both of them--and maybe Cas, too, but that conversation was probably best to have without them so that there could be more touching--this would work.

Also, he wasn’t sure he’d _want_ to hear what Lucifer had to add to the conversation.

“Sammy,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Sam shoved his face further into a pillow.

“Come on, Sam.”

The younger Winchester pulled another pillow over his head.

“Please?” Dean tried.

Uncovering himself enough to see, Sam opened an eye at his brother.

“We need to talk.”

Sam flipped onto his back, groaning.

“Well, you shouldn’t have sex with Lucifer. He’s the devil.”

The younger Winchester rolled his eyes.

“ _But_ …whoever you do end up screwing, don’t, uh…feel pressured to move to fast.” Dean wondered if he sounded like he was talking to his daughter rather than his brother. “Do things when, uh, you want to. And all that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious, Sammy. Be…safe. Okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

Dean sighed, “Lame, I know, but _someone_ had to talk to you.”

Sam pushed himself up, “I know, Dean. And…thanks. For your concern.”

“So, you two haven’t, you know, bumped uglies?”

Sam pulled in his lips, “Of course not.”

Dean eyed him carefully, “How far did you two go?”

“Um. Second?” Sam lied.

“Meaning?”

“Um.”

“Third?” the older Winchester tried, looking hard at his brother.

“Um.”

“Did you have full-on sex with Lucifer?”

Sam was quiet a long while, blush creeping up his cheeks, “…Maybe.”

Dean wasn’t sure if he should be angry, appalled, or a little bit proud of his younger brother, “He didn’t…coerce you or anything, right?”   
The boy glared at him, “No, Dean.”

“Okay. I mean,” Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes, “That’s pretty fucked up. But, uh, I guess it’s fine.”

“Mmhm,” Sam answered, still trying to say as little as possible about the whole ordeal.

“Were you, uh, wow, this is uncomfortable, with anyone before?”

“No,” Sam mumbled.

“Lost your virginity before Cas still,” Dean finally managed.

Sam’s expression turned pained, “That’s…kinda sad.”

“Don’t worry, I’m working on it,” his brother told him.

“I didn’t need to know that.”

“Yeah, well, you had sex with Satan.”

The younger Winchester laughed at his brother this time, “Dude, our lives are so fucked up.”

“The closest person we have to family is an old hunter who’s in some sort of _relationship_ with a _demon_.”

“It’s gross, but they’re kind of adorable.”  Dean chuckled, “Don’t ever tell Bobby this, but I agree.”

Somehow, Sam found himself thinking that this was one of the most normal, brotherly conversations they’d had--probably since before their dad had died. He thought he’d be able to keep things between him and Lucifer a secret for a while, and it had mostly been because he’d been apprehensive as to how his brother would react. Really, he preferred that Dean knew. Keeping secrets between them when they were so close themselves, no matter their age difference, was uncomfortable.

Dean was his older brother and he’d always look up to him, seeking his approval, especially since they were the family each other had left. He knew that he should adapt that term to include Bobby and Castiel, but with their father’s absences, it was nice that Dean had always been there for him.

It was unbelievable that they’d spent so much time hating and fearing the non-human and now he, his brother, and their father figure were all involved with one. He almost found it fitting though--who else could put up with this lifestyle?

He barely did himself.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't remember if they discussed whose body Crowley was in, but this is AU, anyway, so...

Sam knew he was a demon and that, yeah, he’d probably be okay, but when Crowley appeared practically _covered_ in blood, collapsing to the floor, he started shouting for Bobby.

Hearing his panic, everyone came, but the older hunter was the first to his side after Sam. “What happened?” He gripped Crowley’s shoulder, watching the demon wince.

“I think I’ve found a lead.” Crowley’s smirk was closer to a grimace, but the man attempted to return it to assure him.

It wasn’t as if this was the first time Bobby had seen the demon wounded, but never anything this serious. He tried not to worry, but that would be against his every belief--who _didn’t_ he worry about? Unless there was something he was missing--something outside the physical--the demon would definitely survive, but maybe not the body.

~

Dean frowned at Bobby, “So? He’s a demon. He can get another.”

“It’s not like that,” the older hunter told him, shaking his head. They were in Bobby’s room and Dean couldn’t help noticing things that weren’t Bobby’s, like a suit hanging on the door and an expensive phone on the nightstand.

“Things really are serious for you two, aren’t they?” He hadn’t felt too much for Crowley, even seeing him like he was. Dean still saw a _demon_ there, just like all of the ones he’d exorcised or outright killed over the years. Bobby though… If Bobby felt that way about anyone, _even_ a demon, Dean had to care about what happened to them, whether or not he cared about the actual someone.

“Sorta,” Bobby responded, ever the one to downplay his own emotions.

The Winchester could see the man’s concern though, “What’s the problem? Attached to his meat suit?”

“It’s _his_. Really.”

Dean’s brow furrowed and he turned from examining the immaculate suit to Bobby, confused, “What do you mean ‘his’?”

“I mean…his. Apparently, the higher ups down there can do damn near whatever the hell they want--no pun intended,” Bobby answered.

That left Dean with more questions than answers, but he wasn’t going to let himself get caught up in that now, “And?”

“Crowley was human once, like you and me, only…into the black arts and what have you.”

“Oh,” the Winchester responded automatically, his brain working the facts together. “ _Oh_.” He stared at nothing for a few seconds, “Wait. So that means…that was his human body?”

The fact that Dean still wasn’t quite grasping it had Bobby shaking his head, “Idjit.”

What the point of telling Dean was, Bobby wasn’t sure, but it probably had something to do with the fact that he was sort of hoping they could save the body along with its demon--and Dean and his brother were _very_ close to two angel-types that might know something about that sort of thing. As far as he knew, the body had probably been remade before, but siding with him and what Dean had termed “Team Free Will”? Yeah, that couldn’t be earning him points downstairs. If he lost his body, it was extremely unlikely he’d be able to call in another favor.

~

Castiel was up in Dean’s room. He had no desire to heal a demon, but there was a possibility--a pretty major one--that he would be asked to.

He couldn’t say no, not to Dean, and not to the people Dean cared about. It was a flaw in his design. He should do as God commands, not act on the whim of Dean Winchester.

Crowley had been important in hell, someone his superiors would even pay a modicum of attention to. That meant something to Castiel. He wasn’t just a demon. Besides being the romantic partner of Dean’s father figure, he had been a leader down in the pit. He’d never been particularly _sinister_ in his actions, just crafty and efficient. Castiel didn’t know if that meant he should save him now or not.

He would though, if asked. As long as he had those ties to heaven in place… He wasn’t so sure that he did.

~

“Does it hurt?” Lucifer asked honestly.

Crowley glared, “Of course it bloody well hurts.” There were bloodied cuts down his pant legs and a gash on his head, but the giant hole in his gut was rather more worrying. He was propped up in a chair near Bobby’s desk.

Sam frowned, swallowing down the awkwardness between them, “Is there anything I can get you?”

“A new suit. This one’s _ruined_.” He quirked the corner of his mouth up into a half-smile, “And a glass of whiskey.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak and realized he had no idea what to say, so he nodded instead and ran off to find liquor.

Crowley eyed Lucifer suspiciously, “They’re doing it for you.”  The devil looked at him questioningly, “Who?”

“The demons,” Crowley responded, as if it was obvious. “Everyone down there wants to please you--to prove they’re the most loyal, that daddy loves them best, to bring on the apocalypse for you.”

“I’d kinda hoped they’d forgotten about me,” Lucifer told him, smiling despite the gnawing guilt. If it weren’t for that humanity clawing at his insides, maybe he could still be their leader. He was pretty sure the chance of him wanting to go to them was slimmer every day though. Even if he could somehow lose this relatively new human part of himself, he felt like he might want to stay.

Crowley showed feelings--and, yeah, he had the excuse of being human before, but Cas? Castiel wasn’t human in the slightest. He may grow more like them, learn their ways, but he was still an angel, a being of celestial intent, and yet he was in _love_ \--with a human, no less.

It gave him at least the semblance of a reason to believe he could feel something beyond his humanity.

Sam arrived back with the glass, pushing it into Crowley’s eager hand.

The demon downed it in an easy gulp and sighed, “So, either of you two know what to do here?”   
The boys shook their heads.

“Fantastic,” Crowley replied sarcastically. His mouth tasted like blood, but not someone else’s, his own. That was never a good sign.


	36. Chapter 36

Castiel walked into Bobby’s office, taking in the sight of the two boys and the demon. It could have almost looked like they had beaten him were it not for their pained faces.

“Any good news, angel?” Crowley called.

Castiel glared.

“What? My information is valuable,” he shrugged slightly. “Don’t you want to end this?”

“Demons lie.”

Lucifer looked at Crowley, pointing back towards Castiel, “Good point.”

The demon rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t a _demon_ who told me anything--well, except where to find this fellow,” Crowley corrected.

“Who then?” the angel questioned.

“I’ll let you know once you’ve stitched me up.” He smiled, gesturing towards himself.

Sam frowned, “Why don’t you just, I don’t know, leave this body. You’d be fine, wouldn’t you?”

For a moment, Crowley looked thoughtful, “Well, one, I’m rather attached, and two, I _can’t_.”

~

Bobby left the room, wanting to see what the case for Crowley was, but Dean stayed. This was a big deal to Bobby and he’d not been too kind about it. He felt bad about it, although much like the reason he’d not approved in the first place, it was because Crowley was a demon. It being another man-type thing had been a big enough surprise in itself, tacking on the whole demon thing to that was a bit overwhelming.

He’d already decided to care--just a little, mind you--but maybe it _should_ mean more to him.

Bobby had been a hunter for a long time. Dean knew the only reason he’d done it was because his wife had been possessed all those years ago and he’d not known what to do. He’d killed her. Before he told them about Crowley, Dean couldn’t imagine Bobby Singer feeling anything but contempt for a demon. Hell, none of them were overly fond of angels--with a certain obvious exception, but even then, it had taken _Dean_ a while to warm up to Castiel and Bobby even longer.

Hunters weren’t known to trust the supernatural for a reason. After all, most of them ended up in that life because the world seemed intent on screwing them over by sending whatever inhuman evil it could their way. If a thing claimed to want to help you, _actually_ trusting it would likely lead to an even earlier demise than most hunters met.

Bobby, though, he was smart. He wasn’t just suspicious of what he knew to be non-human, but humans, too. Dean had always admired him for that. He couldn’t imagine the wool being pulled over _Bobby’s_ eyes--there was no way the old man would allow it.

Crowley then had to be something _very_ special.

Dean had barely seen Bobby attempt any form of relationship, never mind a serious one. It wasn’t like the man was a monk--Dean knew he’d been with other hunters, at the very least, since they’d known him--but he never seemed to be interested in anything too long-lasting.

Although Dean couldn’t say for certain, he’d never heard Bobby talk about anyone significant like that. No one but his wife.

Despite all of the affection he’d seen them share--to his ever-growing horror--that Bobby was so concerned about both the demon and the body still threw Dean for a loop.

He was glad Bobby had someone. It was probably time to actually accept the fact that it was Crowley.

He gathered his thoughts and went to find the others.

~

The five of them stood around Crowley and the demon began to feel uncomfortable. A whisper from his brother had told Dean the case of Crowley’s binding to the body, but no one was willing to tell Bobby. Not until they’d tried the straightforward route. Only if their attempt was met with failure would anyone dare let Bobby know the extent of the danger Crowley was in.

“Come on, boys. All hands on deck.” The demon waved his hands at them and Castiel stepped forward.

“It’s dangerous to access heaven,” the angel stated, glancing over at Dean to see if the man understood his meaning. “I’m not sure if I’ll even be able to, but if I can…”

Lucifer understood, “It might mean being found before we’re ready--like now.”

Castiel have him a curt nod.

Dean looked to Bobby, seeing the old man’s determination to not show too much emotion on the subject, taking on that gruff appearance he used as near constant defense, and spoke for him, “Can you work around it? Just…try? If you think you’re drawing attention to us, you can just…stop.” There was the smallest flicker of appreciation from Bobby.

Castiel would try anything if it was Dean that requested it of him, but Lucifer was unsure, “You think that’s a good idea?” His arms were crossed but he was standing close enough to Sam that by bringing to his sides, his hand would brush the other boy’s. He hooked his fingers around Sam’s and gave them a gentle squeeze, “Trust me, you don’t want them to find you like this. I don’t want them to find you. Not yet.”

The angel’s gaze passed between Lucifer and the others, settling onto Dean’s.

“Please, Cas.”

That was all it took for Castiel to be assured of his decision again, he turned to Lucifer, “I’ll be careful.” He placed a hand on Crowley’s head.

“You better not smite me,” the demon warned. It wasn’t as if he’d be able to do anything about if he did, but he said the words anyway.

Castiel didn’t answer closing his eyes. A soft glow could be seen beneath his hand.

“Shouldn’t this go faster?” Dean murmured.

The devil spoke softly in return, as if afraid to break Castiel’s concentration, “He’s drawing power slowly. It’s good. You don’t want him to set off all the alarms up there.” He’d been wary of the whole idea from the beginning, but he saw Castiel’s utter care in the undertaking and felt more trust for his brother.

The gash on Crowley’s head slowly disappeared, his legs healing as well, the wound to his gut was still evident, but Castiel stopped. The demon looked at him expectantly, “We’re not done here.”

Castiel was frowning, “The risk is too high.”

“He’s right,” the devil agreed. “You’ll heal.”

The angel retreated to Dean’s side and Crowley stretched, testing himself. Dean gave Bobby a push, making the man stumble a little but giving him the courage to crouch beside his demon. “You okay?” he asked, placing a hand on Crowley’s shoulder.

“Better, darling.” He pulled Bobby forward into a kiss. “Now, listen.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er. Did I forget to post this yesterday? Bad me. But...I saw The Avengers last night. It was distracting.

Dean looked at the demon expectantly, “So?”

Crowley had been hoping for a bit more drama than that. “I didn’t find what I was looking for.”

The others glanced between themselves and back to him. Dean kept his role as speaker, however few words were needed, “Okay, meaning?”

The demon smirked, “I found something even better.”

It was very apparent Crowley wanted them to prompt him, to express an interest in what he had to say, but now that his life was less immediately endangered, Dean found himself edging on annoyed with the demon again. His hesitation led Bobby to speak, “Just tell us already.”

“There’s someone who might want to help us--well, _you_ ,”--he gestured to the Winchesters and their angels--“mostly.” Crowley took in a breath and shared his gaze between them for effect, sounding as if he was sobering his speech while still bragging about his accomplishments, “There’s this angel-- _archangel_ , actually--by the name of Gabriel.”

~

Gabriel eagerly awaited his cue to go to the house. It should be a while--maybe even a day or two away--but he couldn’t wait to see the look on Dean’s face. The Winchesters were going to recognize him, but not because of his status upstairs.

He rotated his neck, stretching his shoulders. He’d have to think of the perfect thing to say. He liked to make a good impression--or what he considered one. It mostly consisted of sarcasm and scathing remarks, but it fit so well with his job on the side. Being a trickster--or, at least, pretending to be--was the most enjoyable line of work he could imagine himself in.

He’d told that demon that he might be able to help them, join their side, maybe. He loved earth and all of its extravagances--and, sweet lord, the human ingenuity it took to create all of those sugary confections was worth eternity’s appreciation--but this apocalypse business, that had to do with his family. He couldn’t help thinking it might be easier to get them to say yes.

Gabriel was powerful, probably powerful enough to get his way if he really wanted. Despite all of his stubbornness, Dean Winchester _did_ have weaknesses--and they all happened to be in that house.

There was another reason he allowed himself into this situation. He’d see two of his brothers for the first time in decades, centuries, millennia… A long time, anyway. Castiel had had quite the reputation of loyalty, a good little soldier unaware of daddy’s absence, naïve enough to be easily taken advantage of--well, until Dean Winchester.

A human had turned an excellent pawn into a rebel, a traitor to his home and his siblings now. This was something Gabriel was quite eager to see. He’d never expected Castiel to ever so much as question an order, never mind be a part of the small group that was the anti-apocalypse movement. Gabriel was actually rather impressed with the whole thing.

Lucifer, on the other hand… Gabriel wasn’t sure what to think. His brother the devil on the side of free will? It was one of those things that almost should’ve made sense, but then…didn’t. Lucifer had seemed to be a go on the whole plan, ready to rise up and fight the brother that had tossed him down into his cage in the pit. The cage that had relatively recently been opened without anyone noticing.

When he listened to the chatter going on in heaven, he was surprised. Although the whole thing had been in Enochian and it was hard to correlate it correctly, what with the skewed perspective of angels, he’s gathered that not only was the devil walking on the earth, but--gasp--might have a little crush on his vessel.

The dynamics of a house with two and a half hunters--the younger brother was iffy--with an angel, a demon, and the devil _had_ to be fascinating stuff.

If not, he’d just go back to his usual tricks.

~

After everyone had gone to bed that night--although Dean was highly suspicious of the noises he hoped he was imagining from Sam and Lucifer’s room--the hunter lay awake. He’d lost so many people he loved. What sense did it make that now, of all times, it was making him sentimental?

It might be the angel he was actually in the middle of wooing.

Between that and the usual stress of the apocalypse, Dean miraculously found himself kept up by his thoughts.

It was unusual for him. He could sleep just about anywhere, anytime.

Castiel was lurking right outside his room though. He wasn’t sure how he knew. It was dark, he certainly couldn’t _see_ him, but he’d bet on it. Cas obviously wasn’t in the room with him, but Dean couldn’t imagine him having gone far.

What harm could he do now?

“Cas,” he called, voice erringly close to a stage whisper.

The angel appeared at his side.

He thought for only a second before the words tumbled out, “Take off your coat.”

Castiel complied. “Dean.”

He always greeted him like that, but it could still send shivers down his spine. He felt more juvenile than the teenagers a room over at the feeling. He shuffled back away from the angel, flipping open the covers to allow Castiel’s occupation of the bed.

A moment’s confusion and hesitation were obvious in the angel’s expression, but instead of questioning Dean’s request, he clumsily toed off the shoes he’d been wearing and shrugged off the suit jacket as well.

He kneeled on the edge of the bed and Dean sat up, pulling his tie loose and then off altogether.

Dean himself was only in a t-shirt and boxers. He thought of bringing Castiel down to his state of undress. The idea only grew more appealing as he undid the angel’s belt, tossing it to the side.

“Dean, what are we doing?”

The question wasn’t nervous, but simply curious, perhaps borderline eager. Dean’s deft fingers slid the buttons of Castiel’s shirt back through their holes and he grinned at the exposure of flesh. Once the shirt had landed on floor, he gave Castiel a gently tug forward, and the angel allowed himself to be malleable, toppling down into on partially on top of the sheets.

The hunter halfway covered Castiel, grinning, “We’ll make it up as we go.”


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I didn't update yesterday. Something really sad happened in my real life. I won't depress you with the details, just enjoy this fairly cute chapter.

Sam and Lucifer sat cross-legged across from each other on the bed. After some light petting, they’d still both been unable to sleep.

They knew it was stupid. Compromising yourself in _any_ way when you knew something might happen the next day--now more than ever--was never good. Really, though, they were teenagers, not sleeping sometimes was just a normal part of life. Sure, it didn’t matter as much to Lucifer, but his human body was rather fond of the practice, anyway. Eating and sleeping seemed to have the same effect as always. He knew he could _probably_ get away with not doing either. It didn’t mean he was going to stop.

Plus, the devil somehow figured that eating and sleeping would maintain the body without pull on his grace, however slight it may be. It was a strange kind of logic, but he liked indulging in his humanity. Any excuse would do.

The dreaming, though… The possibility of his brothers appearing again, more prepared this time… That was frightening. Sure, one he could handle easily--in a dream, at the very least--but two would be harder. Two could probably keep him there, if they wanted.

Lucifer was glad they hadn’t gone after Sam. Not yet.

Sam was mostly glad everyone in the house was alright.

The devil decided to say something to bring them away from all of the shit that was inevitably going to find them. He tugs at the hem of the shirt he’s wearing, “I like this. Wearing your clothes.”

“They’re kinda big on you.” Sam smirks at him, their fingers tangled loosely together where their knees touched.

“You aren’t _that_ large,” Lucifer says and frowns, “Or are you saying I’m small? I’m not small, okay? I’m normal-sized. You know what? Maybe you _are_ a giant.”

“Maybe,” the Winchester agreed, watching as the devil’s frown became something much more aptly referred to as a pout.

Lucifer’s expression takes a serious turn then, eyeing Sam suspiciously, “How tall _are_ you, anyway?”

The other boy considered it a moment. He can guess based on how tall he is now compared to his older brother. There’s a couple inches of difference between them in height. It’s a fairly recent development and Sam felt gangly and awkward--still does, but it only makes sense. “Um. Six-three? Six-four?”

The devil glared at him, “Freak.”

“Says Satan himself,” Sam retorted, seeing the quick hint of furrowed eyebrows and a downturned mouth before Lucifer has pulled his hand free from the other boy’s and is toppling him over.

“I guess I should act out my evil plans, then,” the blonde said, clamping his mouth onto Sam’s throat.

The Winchester squirmed, “Ah! Stop! You’re going to leave a mark!”

Lucifer did stop, but only long enough to say a single word: “Good.”

~

Dean had stripped Castiel down to his boxers. If he thought on it, he’d have realized that he hadn’t had even a one night stand in some time and that maybe, just maybe, that was because he had Cas and merely hanging out with Cas was more interesting than hooking up with random women. As soon as the thought occurred to Dean, however, he decided pushing it away for now was the most sensible thing to do.

There was something much more important than analyzing his feelings and it might have something to do with the fact that he was mouthing an angel’s chest and said angel was squirming under him. He trailed his make back up to Castiel’s lips and the angel responded hungrily.

Dean broke the kiss, looking down at Castiel’s face--the longing in his eyes, the way he was so attuned to this body, down to the way his breathing was coming in short, deep gasps. His gaze flickered to Dean’s mouth and back to his eyes.

It occurred to Dean that he could use his “last night on earth” speech. It seemed like only the natural thing to do--what he did with everyone else who knew about what was really out there. Those girls though…they weren’t Cas. Cas who had been by his side constantly for the past year and a half. Cas who had questioned his beliefs because of Dean. Cas who had rebelled against heaven for him. It wasn’t exactly a casual thing.

So he didn’t say it. “You never told me how you got so good at this,” he said instead, smirking a little as Castiel frowned ever so slightly.

“The internet,” the angel answered simply and Dean laughed, but it was quickly silenced as Castiel pressed his mouth to Dean’s and wrapped an arm around him, flipping them over with ease.

He could feel the angel, hard against his hip. It only took the slightest of movements, just a shift--a _grind_ , really--and Castiel was mewling into his mouth. Cas was pushing against him in turn, their erections rubbing against each other’s bodies in that teasing way Dean loved and hated.

The fingers of one hand skimmed down Castiel’s back as his other hand placed itself on the angel’s neck, slipping through his hair. The kiss was hot, Castiel’s tongue against Dean’s, sliding deliciously in sync as if they’d been doing this forever instead of only a couple times.

Dean’s teeth bit gently into the angel’s lip, then a bit harder at Castiel’s writhing response. He ran his tongue along it before his lips met Castiel’s again and it was just…perfect. There was only one thing holding him back. “Cas,” he broke away, meeting the angel’s eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?” _With me_ , he thought hard, but he didn’t say it.

“I love you. Probably more than I should as…what I am,” the angel said earnestly and the hunter had to look away--all that raw emotion too difficult for him to handle. “Dean,” Castiel’s hand attached the the elbow keeping him upright found its way to Dean’s jaw, imploring him to make eye contact again. “I want to be with you in whatever way you’ll have me.”

Dean’s face scrunched up slightly, “What does that even--”

“Yes.”

The hunter leaned up to capture his mouth again, kissing away his feelings of unworthiness. If Cas wanted him, if Cas would have _him_ , he should be grateful, not shove it away. Not this time.


	39. Chapter 39

The darkness of the room hadn’t bothered Dean since Cas had been with him, eyes adjusting to the lack of light. It occurred to him that Castiel could probably see everything anyway.

Dean Winchester liked to act tough, but he would give anything for the people he loved. He’d kill for his little brother--die for him, too. He cared about the life of a _demon_ for Bobby. This…was completely different.

There was just skin on skin. Castiel over him, fingers working him open. The angel’s forehead rested against his own. Dean shifted, pushing himself onto Cas’s fingers, and he had to bite his lip to keep back a groan when the digits in him curled just so as pleasure sparked through him.

Castiel was the only one--person or angel or anything--Dean would let do this to him, that he trusted with both his life and his body like this.

“Dean,” the angel said, his name laced with Castiel’s want. His voice was even deeper, rougher now than usual.

The hunter tilted his hips upward, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He wished that Castiel would follow the movements of his body, the language there, rather than use words to tell him. It was important though, too, so gathering up more courage than it took to walk straight into a nest of vampires, Dean spoke, “You can… I want you to--”

The corner of Castiel’s mouth twitched up as he watched Dean fumble for words but the amusement was lost in the atmosphere of the room, the sounds of heavy breathing, “Tell me. Please.”

“Fuck me, Cas.” It came out almost confidently, the only thing giving him away being the way the angel’s name had trembled.

Castiel nodded, his fingers slowly pulling themselves out. Dean had helped him with these details--the preparations and that. He knew what to do next. He slicked his cock and a little shudder ran through Dean’s body at the sight of it.

He wanted it, wanted _him_. So badly. Castiel was careful in his movements, but Dean encouraged him. As he pressed in, the hunter realized that the feeling was very different than his fingers had been, but not wholly unpleasant. He whimpered--how unmanly was _that_ \--at the slight burn of it. Then, Cas was inside him.

He was thicker than his fingers had been and it became more apparent as he was in to the hilt. He felt stretched, full, but it was _Cas_ and it was amazing. The angel’s eyes were wide and he began to move, his thrusts met by Dean’s hips each time.

“Cas,” the hunter whispered, voice hoarse, their bodies syncing into a rhythm.

The angel tilted his head into the Winchester’s neck, “Dean, I--”

“’S okay.” He scratched with both hands down Castiel’s shoulders, along his spine. The angels hips shifted and it was like Dean was catching fire, the feeling so good and so overwhelming when it was with this angel, whose presence was intense on its own, but was now fucking him with a great deal of reverence.

He found one of Castiel’s hands and slipped his own beneath it, twining their fingers together. He could feel it everywhere, the muscles flexing and the control the angel had.

It was slowly slipping away.

Dean kissed him again, a sense of urgency ebbing into its calmness.

Castiel was gasping into his mouth, Dean’s name and things in a language Dean couldn’t recognize as his thrusts sped up, sliding in and out of the hunter’s body. The angel had never felt anything like this before, there was something in him building, better and better each time he pushed back into Dean. He wanted to bury himself in him as far as he could, but he wanted Dean to know how much this meant to him.

Dean could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his eyes meeting Castiel’s as they seemed ever inclined to do. He was giving himself to him, and it wasn’t just his body. Cas had given him everything, and Dean wanted to make that up to him. His hips followed the angel’s lead as his speed would change and adjust, often getting that jolt of pleasure. His hand squeezed Castiel’s.

The angel’s lips were on his again and Castiel was moaning, panting, falling apart on top of him. Naked in every way. Dean kissed him harder, messy as he brought his free hand to his own cock, ragged strokes between their bodies. The friction had been nice, but this was better. “Ngh.” It wasn’t a dignified sound. Castiel didn’t seem put off by it though, his breathing coming faster and faster, and Dean could practically hear his heart beating a staccato rhythm to match his own.

“Dean, I don’t-- I _can’t_ \--” The hunter could feel Castiel crumbling, breaking.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he managed, his hand moving faster as Castiel’s hips stuttered on, the angel’s cock hitting his prostate getting him that much closer to orgasm, but Cas first. He’d never come before and Dean wasn’t about to ruin it for him now. He had to hold onto himself tight to keep from coming, but then the angel was shaking and and he was saying Dean’s name with such urgency and Dean could _feel_ it.

He jerked himself quickly, knowing it would only take the barest of effort to push himself over now, plummeting over the edge as Cas did. He came in hot, sticky stripes over his own hand and chest, as well as Castiel’s, groaning what sounded something like “fuck” and “Cas”--the only words still in his vocabulary.

His eyes had shut, but when he opened them, he could’ve sworn he saw wings, if only for a second. He could feel Cas inside him, slick and wet and overfull in a way that he didn’t want to admit to even himself that he loved.

“Cas,” he whispered.

The angel looked at him, completely wrecked--unlike Dean had ever seen him. “Thank you.”


	40. Chapter 40

“Stop fussing,” Crowley admonished, but Bobby glared at him, frowning. The demon looked at him a long moment, examining the man’s features, “Bobby Singer, are you _worried_?” He blinked exaggeratedly at him, “About _me_?”

The hunter grumbled something unintelligible.

“Bobby,” Crowley said, eyebrows raised.

“ _Yes_ , alright?” Bobby answered, loud enough to make the demon smirk at him.

Crowley was propped up on what had become _his_ side of Bobby’s bed, legs straight out with one over the other. He looked so different. With his suit shredded and his body still recovering-- _far_ too slowly, not that it mattered overly much--Bobby had nonchalantly thrown him a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt. Crowley was so out of his normal attire it was almost _shocking_ to look at, even after a couple of hours Bobby still had to reassure himself it _was_ Crowley--and that he was in _less_ immediate danger than he had been.

In a way, Bobby was angry at what Crowley had done. It was so _stupid_ \--to search out angels on _purpose_ \--but it was surely a trait he’d picked up from Bobby. Crowley was not the self-sacrificing type. No, he was more of the betray-whoever-you-need-to-if-it-means-survival type. It wasn’t at all like Bobby, who was loyal to a fault. Bobby knew, reasonably, that Crowley had chosen their side for the sake of saving his own skin. After all, the whole reason they became anything other than enemies on the basis of identity was the apocalypse.

Crowley liked earth. Maybe Bobby was self-centered to think that what Crowley had done was in any way for him or the boys.

“Come here,” the demon murmured and Bobby complied, halfway down before Crowley tugged him half on top of the demon.

Crowley liked to do that--to put Bobby off-balance. He’d turned Bobby’s beliefs upside down and he never stopped proving why. He was not stingy with his affection, never caring where they were or who was watching. He’d look at Bobby with genuine adoration--which, to be honest, had been the fucking _scariest_ thing to the hunter at first.

They’d started with insults and barely restrained hatred, barbed words present in every sentence…until it changed. Crowley would look through Bobby’s books, make suggestions, give him advice to relay to Dean--although without the other man’s knowledge. They…well, they _clicked_.

When Dean asked Bobby for a way to find an angel, Crowley had offered his…professional services. A deal was made, sealed with a kiss. Then, for who knew what reason, another kiss happened. Crowley would put a hand on his shoulder as he leaned over him to view a page on exorcisms and it would linger there.

They both had an appreciation for old scotch and drinking led to talking and talking led to realizing, hey, maybe they got along pretty great. It was surprisingly comfortable between them after a while. Bobby would be alone at his house so much, company wasn’t really minded and Crowley seemed happy to provide it.

“I know you _hate_ when I get all sappy on you, but…” The demon kissed Bobby. “I love you, Bobby Singer.”

Bobby blushed, “You, too.” He arranged himself next to Crowley on the bed.

~

Sam rolled over onto his stomach, propped up on his elbows, Lucifer was on his back beside him. “What do you see when you look at them?”

Lucifer’s hands were folded over his chest, but he looked up into the other boy’s face, “What?”

It was then that Sam remembered how much he’d been thinking without saying it, “Demons. Like, when you look at Crowley, what do you see?”

The devil shrugged. “Demon. Man.”

Sam was intrigued, “Both?”

“Yeah… I mean, it’s like I can see his face-- his, uh, _other_ face, but I can still see…well, the same thing you do.” He brought a hand up to rub at his eyes. “Why? Curious?”

“Yeah.” The Winchester slid down, folding his hands under his jaw, face turned towards Lucifer’s. “So, with Cas and stuff, or _you_ , do the others-- do they see your true form or whatever?”

“It’s…different,” the devil sighed. “Angels--which I still basically am--we don’t work exactly like demons do. A vessel has to say yes, accepts an angel into it, it’s not…forced. I think that’s one of the reasons you can’t see an angel like that.”

Sam frowned, brows furrowed, “But, Crowley…”

“I know. The body was his, but I don’t think it’s as easy, especially downstairs, to put someone _back_ , even if it _was_ theirs.”

~

Dean laid there, sore but content. “Cas…”

The angel was alert now, staring at Dean in wonder. It wasn’t that different from how Castiel normally looked at him, Dean realized. Post-sex Cas was still just Cas--only more adoring and less virginal.

“How was it?” the hunter asked, avoiding eye contact.

“Dean,” Castiel said, in that way he always did, serious and focused--as if no one else mattered, not as much as Dean Winchester did, “I…” He exhaled through his nose, human words failing him. “Thank you,” he said again.

Dean chuckled, “I’m guessing that means you liked it. Sex is a beautiful thing, Cas.” It was something he’d said a million times, for varying reasons, including none at all. Now, though…despite the fact that he’d tried to say it as he normally did--no big deal--his voice was rougher, tired, and it was too easy to read more into the statement.

“I didn’t…hurt you, did I?” the angel asked and Dean kissed him, long and languid.

“I’ll be fine,” the hunter told him, brushing off the question as much as he could. Yeah, he’d never quite done _that_ before, and he was going to have some trouble with it later, but he could tough it out. There was a reason he’d had a lot of sex and he hadn’t done it before. That he trusted Castiel to do it? That was a big fucking deal. He wasn’t going to make Cas feel guilty about it.

He had a feeling Cas worried enough about him as it was.

“Do you want to, uh, shower with me?” Dean was becoming more and more aware of messy discomfort. Bringing Castiel to wash up with him didn’t just seem like a good idea because of the angel’s less-than-cleanly state, but…well, he’d taken the guy’s virginity--that was good reason to stick with him for a while longer, no pun intended. Besides, Dean _liked_ being with Castiel and it wasn’t often he got to share a shower with someone. It might be…nice.

Castiel nodded and Dean smiled--just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will update _every_ day again soon. I just have a paper I really need to write.


	41. Chapter 41

Unconscious Bobby was far more okay with showing affection than conscious Bobby was. In his sleep, he had placed a hand over Crowley’s wound--protecting it however he could. It wasn’t pressuring or possessive--not that the demon--would have minded, but…there, resting, shielding.

When the man had been nearly asleep, almost unaware of his surroundings, he had put it there on Crowley’s stomach.

The demon was the first to wake up--sleeping with Bobby often included _sleeping_ with Bobby, in the literal sense. Despite what the old man said, he was very fond of snuggling. Bobby might still consider smiting him if he heard that word, but Crowley thought it anyway.

He would never give up his less-than-noble ideals, but he hadn’t needed to put himself in the danger he did. Crowley had gone out on a limb because Bobby meant something to him.

By no means had he tried to get himself killed. He’d been sure he would get out alive, if not _whole_ , exactly, which was worth the risk. The demons had offered him the chance to change his mind, but he had refused. It wasn’t as if his survival would be possible in the apocalypse.

This Gabriel was strange and Crowley didn’t trust him in the slightest--nor any angel, really--but he had power.

If he was truly on their side, the demon was beginning to think they might win this yet. He quite liked that idea.

~

Despite his distractions, Castiel felt the exact time things were off. It was hard to tell how many, but there were angels around the house--surrounding it.

It was like an itch, that familiar threat, and he was ready for battle, as a good soldier should always be. It wasn't as if he enjoyed these kills, the slaughter of his brethren, but rather he understood their necessity given his chosen allegiances. If protecting Dean--and the misfits he had now come to see as his new kin--meant more of the Host must fall, he would destroy any that opposed them without question.

Castiel wondered if he should first assess the details of their situation or wake Dean. He disliked placing more burden on the man's shoulders--even if it was Dean's own doing in many ways. It wasn't fair what Heaven had asked of him, what fate had for some reason decided for him.

Dean wouldn't like to be kept out of anything--nor would he appreciate Castiel's inclination to keep him from harm, not that the angel felt any guilt for this. It was, after all, his nature.

"Dean." His name was Castiel's favorite human word.

The Winchester grumbled, attempting to pull a pillow over his head. It was endearing, if somewhat stupid.

Castiel tugged it gently from his hands, “Dean, they’re here. The angels.”   
Eyes still closed, Dean frowned. Suddenly, his eyes shot open and he was sitting up--threat mode activated. If it were just him, maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal. It wasn’t as if the angels had given up on the idea of using him as Michael’s vessel--the purpose he had been created for in the first place, fucked up as it was. There were others though, that he cared about, Sam and Bobby…and Cas--hell, even Crowley and Lucifer. Most everyone was expendable to the angels, as he had seen. “How many?”

Castiel tried again to sense them, to specify, but to no avail. “I’m not sure.”

“Two? Three?” Dean asked, slipping his jeans on over his naked body. Maybe if he had the privilege of time to think about himself, he could have acknowledged that slight ache, but now was instead the time to search his bag for one of the angel blades they had taken from the ones they had killed.

“More.” Castiel was sure of it. If it were only a couple, he’d have been able to tell--this feeling he had now was a bit overwhelming, the energy around them so close. He wished he knew, for Dean’s sake.

Dean set the blade beside him and sat down on the edge of the bed long enough to pull his boots on. “I can go out there--distract them. Could you get the others out of here?” He knew it was too late for that, but he needed to ask. If he could risk only himself, he would without question.

Castiel shook his head.

“Alright, then. Better get everyone up and ready.”

~

Sam’s legs were sprawled over Lucifer’s, and yet the devil’s head was still somehow pushed against his chest. It would’ve been incredibly uncomfortable for others to do, but between youth and personal preference, they managed to pull it off.

Lucifer is dressed only in the sheet wrapped around them while Sam had slipped on boxers. After a night of talking and wrestling and talking some more, Lucifer had pulled Sam close and insisted that they were never going to get to sleep unless he fucked him. Although Sam had assured him that logic was flawed, it had only taken the devil’s wandering hands to convince him to do it anyway.

It had worked. When they had finished, fucked out and exhausted--Lucifer had done his best to wear Sam out--Sam had barely managed to clean off and get his boxers back on before he was out like a light.

Lucifer had basked in this victoriously for a few minutes, running his fingers through Sam’s longer hair until, with a yawn, he succumbed to his own want for sleep.

That did not mean they had slept for long when Dean was there, knocking quietly but consistently at the door.

The second Lucifer’s mind touched consciousness, he was awake, alert. He felt the same presence Castiel did and panic set in before he could help it. Raphael’s threat to Sam came to the forefront of his mind and he was tensed, ready to lash out at anything around them. He was sitting up in the bed without another thought.

His hand went automatically to Sam, to assure his presence--he could feel already, his senses heightened more than the usual dulled human ones he had come to rely on. Sam’s soul filled the room in that otherworldly way and he reached out to it with his grace, securing it however he could.

It took him a second to realize Dean was at the door. Sam hadn’t woken up, but Lucifer was fairly certain there were no unexpected visitors there in his subconscious.

He tried to calm himself, leash his being back to his body. “How many are there?”


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, I am so, so sorry. I literally just turned in my last thing for class, like, an hour and a half ago and now I need to get back into the swing of writing these last few chapters. The others should be longer than this one, but I figured I ought to post _something_ now.
> 
> Again, my apologies. Do you guys want more sex to make up for it? :)

Castiel appearing in Bobby’s room was kind of a mood killer.

Crowley didn’t get morning sex with Bobby nearly as often as he would’ve liked. The fact that he’d been so close this time--that little bit of pity Bobby felt for him since he was injured, it _would’ve worked_ \--only to be interrupted by an angel of the lord… Well, he’d have to hold in that rage for a while. He could work out his revenge after they dealt with the fact that apparently the house was surrounded by--oh, what’s that? More fucking angels.

There would be no convincing Bobby to have even a quickie now.

~

Castiel knew the leaders weren’t there--no Zachariah, no Raphael. No archangels.

This wasn’t the big showdown.

These angels were most likely here to hobble them, weaken them however they could. They were here to do damage that might _tempt_ Dean and Lucifer--and, perhaps for a purpose he was only beginning to understand, Sam.

Pitching three humans, two angels, and possibly an injured demon against what he was now seeing was probably about a dozen angels or more still wasn’t exactly a great idea. Sure, it _could_ be about two angels per person, but there was more to factor in than that.

Sam wasn’t trained. Not like Dean was. He knew the basics and he’d seen them take down angels, but it wasn’t as if he had the experience. They were lucky that he was pretty strong, at least, otherwise it would’ve been as good as sending him to slaughter. Castiel knew the host might want to use him, might spare him for that purpose, if nothing else, but it wasn’t something he liked considering. They didn’t need him undamaged, by any means.

Bobby may be a bit old, but he was cunning as ever. Crowley, despite his selfishness, would help because Bobby would never let his boys fight alone, not if he could be of any use, and Crowley would protect Bobby. Cas was certain of it.

He tried not to worry about Dean. He would be there, at Dean’s side, like always. They wouldn’t get him. Their goal obviously wasn’t to kill him, but kidnapping wasn’t beyond his brethren and their current ideals.

Their methods of persuasion were nearly unlimited.

Not that Castiel would let it get to that. After all, these were just cronies--his brothers and sisters, yes, but here to hurt his new family.

Now was not the time for mercy.

~

“What are they waiting for?” Sam asked, fidgeting with the blade he’d been given.

“Us,” Dean said simply, and strolled ahead, Cas at his side.

Bobby and Crowley were heading out the back and Sam looked to Lucifer beside him, smiling warily.

“I know I can’t convince you not to fight, but…be careful,” the devil said, not daring to look anywhere but at the angels until the words were out.

“Okay…” Sam replied but there was a hint of questioning to the word, as if he could sense the strangeness in Lucifer’s tone which spoke of more than just the general “don’t die” sentimentality. Maybe it was because of their relationship--which, of course, the way Lucifer spoke to him was clearly indicative of--but it seemed more like fear.

~

Castiel was a step ahead of Dean, gripping the blade tightly in his fist. The angels were watching, eating for them to make the first move.

“Dean,” Castiel said, quiet but firm. Like always, it sounded heavy with meaning often left unsaid. His eyes scanned over their surroundings and pausing to meet Dean’s. They would not die today. The apocalypse would not happen. He had to believe that. Blue eyes stayed locked on green, the corners of his lips quirked down into a frown. This man meant everything to him.

“Love you, too,” Dean winked, flipping the blade over in his hand, and an angel fifteen feet ahead of him took a step forward, grinning. The hunter sent a glare towards his enemy and a smirk to Castiel before moving forward.

~

Crowley looked between the angels in front of them. Only three around them, all in those suits that seemed to be customary for the heavenly host of holy dickbags, the rest having focused on the main course in the front. These were likely distractions, to keep them from helping the boys. There was one in a female vessel--short blonde hair and sharp eyes. One look at her and Crowley knew she’d be difficult. Instead, he nodded his head towards the tall man on the left in indication, “That one looks dim, doesn’t he, darling?”

Bobby dipped his head in affirmation, adjusting his cap. “So,” he called to the others as the demon stalked off, “what brings you folk to my humble abode?” The words rolled off his tongue with his usual sarcasm.

The one in the woman looked suspicious, glancing over at Crowley, but allowed herself a laugh in Bobby’s direction, “Quite convenient to keep every one of your allies locked up in the same place. For us, of course. The major players of the apocalypse ripe for the picking.”

“Yeah, well, I’m nothing if not helpful,” Bobby replied easily, smiling without teeth.

The man beside her inched forward, but she stepped in front of him. “An old man and his demon consort against even a single angel doesn’t sound like much of a match,” she said coolly, teasingly.

“We’re stubborn,” the old hunter added.

Crowley walked towards his target, smirking.

“Demon,” the angel sneered as a form of greeting.

Inclining his head, Crowley simply responded, “Angel.” He slowly walked around him, ignoring the pain in his side. He kept his eyes on the angel’s, keeping his attention away from his hands.

“You think you can win this?” the angel questioned, arrogance oozing from its heavenly aura.

“Well…it’s worth a shot,” the demon shrugged.

“You should’ve stayed on your side. There’s no point in helping them. We’ll kill you, you know.”

“Die now or die when you get your apocalypse?” Crowley barked out a laugh. “Not much of a choice, is it?” He lit a match.

“What are you--” the angel started as it dropped and the ring of flames shot up around it.

“You may be stronger, but you certainly aren’t smarter.” He smiled.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Sorry, guys. At least this chapter is twice the length of the last. I hope you like it.

The flames draw the attention of the angels Bobby has distracted, but they don’t seem much bothered when Crowley stabs their brother. Perhaps he was as expendable as he seemed. Bobby shielded his eyes as the light exploded outward, the body falling into the circle with the crack of ashen wings.

The woman, however, gestured to her remaining companion and suddenly he had Bobby by the throat.

They were down an angel, but this was not the turn of events they had hoped for.

~

With quick movements, Castiel and Lucifer had swiftly killed an angel each before the fighting had truly begun, the evidence of what they’d done outlined across the ground. It brought their group to more manageable odds. They could probably win even, were it not for the humans.

Sam was having trouble holding his own against a single angel. Castiel was right about the lack of training, of experience. He could survive, it seemed, but barely. A sixteen-year-old against an angel really didn’t seem like a fair fight to begin with, but Castiel could imagine Dean at that age--he could _know_ even, if he wanted to--and Dean might’ve fared better with the way their father had trained him. Sam tried though, and that was definitely working in is favor. It was just increasingly obvious he was fighting a losing battle, but for some reason the angel wasn’t crushing him. In fact, he was looking a little bit smug.

Unfortunately, Sam’s struggle was very distracting for Lucifer.

Lucifer could have easily taken the angels he was fighting, but his attention was elsewhere. The two angels weren’t looking for the killing blow though, or they probably could have managed it. They just wanted to weaken him, show him it wasn’t worth his effort to defend the earth when he should be destroying half of its population as he battled Michael.

It wasn’t like Lucifer still didn’t wish for his older brother’s demise, just that he wasn’t going to cause it for the sake of their war. The apocalypse had a few good aspects for him, and, ridiculously, would have been met with less resistance, but rebellion seemed a far better option and the parts of him that were definitely caught up in being a teenager agreed wholeheartedly with that.

He glanced at Sam and the blow struck. The devil was spitting blood and sliding backwards, the disturbed dirt and dust thick, clouding the air. _Okay, that hurt._

~

Crowley held up his hands. “I thought we weren’t worth your efforts,” he called casually, keeping the panic from his voice.

The man had Bobby pressed up against the side of the house, feet dangling uselessly above the ground.

The woman allowed Crowley her attention, “You killed one of ours, why don’t we take one of yours?”

The demon smiled charmingly, “He’s just a foolish old man. Why not…” he shrugged, “let him live? You know, let us think we’ve got an edge.” He spread his hands out before him, “What can we do to you?” She looked pointedly at the body behind him. “Well, even you’ve got to admit you’re better off without _that_ one.”

Her lips quirked, “What would you offer me then, demon? What _could_ you possibly offer?”

“Name a demon-- _any_ demon.” He thought for a second, “Human? Whatever you like.”

“For this man’s life?” She focused on Bobby, her companion’s fingers closing over his throat until the hunter was choking and gasping, eyes scanning between the angels and Crowley.

“Yes,” the demon said quickly. “And my own, of course.”

The woman gestured to the other angel and his grip loosened, bringing Bobby nearer to the ground his feet were desperately reaching for. “How about your _cooperation_ in our mission here today?”

Crowley hesitated, “Well…”

“Kill him,” she ordered and the man _squeezed_.

“Wait!” the demon cried and Bobby was lowered to the ground.

“Crowley, no,” the old hunter warned, eyes wide, his voice barely coming out above a whisper as it pushed past the damage the angel had done.

“Yes,” Crowley drawled, as if nothing was amiss. “I’ll do it. Just put the old man down.”

“As if we could place that much trust on a demon,” the woman spat. “No, we keep him until they’ve agreed to the terms of the apocalypse.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Help my brethren _persuade_ them,” she replied.

~

Castiel dodged the stab of a blade and and twisted his brother’s arm, forcing him to drop the weapon and throwing him onto his back in time for one of his sisters to strike him, missing her intended target and of his chest and glancing across his arm. He gasped in a breath he may not have needed and as she stumbled forward, his blade went through her ribs.

That bright whiteness spilled from her open mouth and eye sockets first and he remembered fighting beside her in battle millennia ago before she was consumed by the light and collapsed. There was a twinge of guilt he was familiar with, but he would not mourn her now.

The angel he had tossed to the ground was on his feet again, blade back in his hand.

Dean was just a few feet away, tossing him a wink as he sliced across the chest of an angel. Castiel gave him a slight nod and turned his attention to the angel, using his forearm to hold back its strike when he heard it--the sound of Dean cursing as _someone_ hit the dirt hard.

He called his name, sparing himself a glance in the hunter’s direction long enough for two angels to grab him, holding him there. “Should we let him watch?” one said to the other, its voice unnervingly pleasant.

“You won’t kill him,” Castiel gritted out as panic coiled around him.

“No, but we can do just about anything to get him to say yes. Our friend over there has been biding his time with his brother,” answered the other angel, harsh-sounding.

Castiel let his body go lax in defeat, “You won’t hurt them.”

“Oh, but we can hurt them all we want,” said the kinder-seeming voice.

Sighing, Castiel was quick, slipping a blade away from one and impaling the other with it. The remaining angel froze in shock and Cas made short work of it, as well, “But you won’t.”

He scrabbled to Dean, placing himself between the hunter and his attacker.

Sam swung wildly for a minute and the angel was patient, precise, grabbing ahold of his wrists as he tired himself. “We’re not going to kill you,” the angel told him, grinning, “We’re going to let your boyfriend burn you out of that body.”

The boy struggled uselessly, he had height on the angel, but nothing else, it seemed. The grip tightened and he was forced to drop the weapon.

“We can just…keep you for a while, until he’s ready.”

Sam grunted, “Fuck you.”

The angel chuckled, twisting Sam’s wrists and forcing him to his knees. He leaned in close, voice quieter, “I hear that’s what you’ve been doing with the devil. Letting him corrupt you, his hands all over you. Disgusting. No wonder you were meant for their side.” He pulled back, examining the angry embarrassed strain of the Winchester’s face, tears surfacing as his bones ground against each other beneath the angel’s fingers. “I guess it’s a pity you’re so young, but look at you--pathetic.”

~

“Sorry, but I don’t think it’s going to work out that way,” someone said behind them.

Crowley’s sight snapped toward them and felt relief flood through him. “Took you long enough,” he growled.

“Gabriel?” the woman gasped, her companion equally shocked as he let go, freeing Bobby. The two angels stared in rapt fascination at the newcomer, standing up straighter, at attention.

“That’s the _archangel_ you got?” he called to Crowley, sounding as if he was still choking. He wouldn’t be talking right for the rest of the day at the very least with the way that angel had damaged him. If he hadn’t wanted them gone before, he certainly would’ve now.

Crowley shrugged, allowing his usual easy smirk to take its place on his features. “Yes, darling. That’s the one.”

“Bit short, isn’t he?” Bobby coughed, neck regaining color to redden where he’d been held, his face splotchy. He examined Gabriel--short, nearly shoulder-length hair, sideburns, and cocky-looking. Bobby knew he wasn’t supposed to judge a book by its cover, especially in his line of work, but he was having some serious doubts here. Even if the guy was an angel, he seemed too small and unassuming to be overly affective.

“We thought you were dead,” the woman said, eyes narrowing. She took a step forward, testing him, “Just a traitor then?”

“Hey,” the archangel sucked a lollipop into his mouth, speaking around it, “I’m still your superior. Living, breathing, tricking, et cetera, et cetera.” He emphasized the syllables of his last words, letting them fall with syrupy sounds as he sucked on his lollipop.

“I’m sure the others would love to hear that.” She opened her mouth and a blade came through her chest. She stared at it, her grace spilling out of her vessel. It looked as if he was still in front of her, but his voice was in her ear.

“They aren’t gonna hear it from you though, little sis.” He pulled the blade free with a slick squelching noise.

Bobby gaped at the sight in awe, fixing his skewed cap and watching as the man who’d held him readied himself to fly away.

He began to disappear when Gabriel appeared, hands on his shoulders, staying him. “Sorry, bro. I just can’t allow tattle tales,” he explained and sank his blade into the angel’s stomach.

The body thudded to the ground and Gabriel slid the blade back into his jacket, his double crackling out of existence. He brushed his hands together like they were dirty--which, in a way, they were.

“Hello,” Crowley greeted him again.

Gabriel smirked and Bobby wondered if these two were somehow cut from the same cloth, angel and demon as they were. It occurred to him that the archangel’s timing was far too perfect, “Were you just waitin’ around?”

The archangel snapped his fingers and the pain was gone from the old hunter’s throat, “You’re welcome, but I really just wasn’t going to listen to that--” he brought his hand to his throat and gestured--“choking sound all day.”

“Thanks,” Bobby mumbled, his voice coming out as it should and surprising him.

“Yes, thank you, Gabriel,” Crowley continued, “But he’s right, how long _were_ you waiting?”

“Oh, you know,” he plucked a new lollipop from the air, the other having disappeared with his doppelgänger, “a while.” Crowley’s eyebrows rose skeptically. “What? I thought if your little group of misfits here had the balls to take on the big guys, you’d have no problem with a few cronies.” He slurped at the candy in his mouth.

“It’s not that I don’t believe in those boys…” Bobby interrupted. “But maybe we ought check on them.” He shrugged, mouth sneering sarcastically, “You know, just for fun.”

~

Lucifer had his blade stuck through the throat of an angel when he saw it--Sam pinned. He felt his grace swell up inside of him, rage and fear consuming every minuscule part of his being. They were going to take Sam, to use him against them. He wasn’t going to do it. He wouldn’t take that body and destroy everything good in it. Lucifer slammed the angel who was attacking him to the ground, keeping it there, blade burying itself between his splayed fingers over the heart of its vessel.

“No,” he said. The angel who had Sam took a look around, smiling broadly as its eyes met the devil’s. He was about to disappear, to take Sam away with him and fulfill those promises Raphael had made.

The devil rushed forward.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m the worst, I know. It’s been a couple of weeks since I last updated this, but for some reason, this chapter had me in all sorts of writer’s block and my muse has unfortunately been too busy to help a lady out. Anyway, I hope I don’t lapse on this again. Because anyone still following it here is probably wondering what the fuck happened, especially with it so close to the end. I’m so, so sorry. I'm a big bag of dicks.
> 
> In other news, pretty sure this thing has just hit 50,000 words. What.

Castiel was lucky the angel was after Dean and not him, but still, _a knife_?

He staggered backwards with the force of it, but Dean was up and catching him in no time, muttering, “Get that son of a bitch.”

With a push, Cas drove forward, knife embedded between his ribs, and arced a blade down through his brother’s collarbone and into his chest.

“Traitor,” the angel accused with its dying breath and the light exploded out of it.

Castiel pulled the knife from his chest and heard Dean scream Sam’s name. He saw it and, in the blink of an eye, appeared behind the angel and stabbed it in the back--Sam crumpling to the ground in pain as it died.

Lucifer nearly caught him on the way down, skidding on his knees across the dirt to hold him, still radiating power.

Castiel took a step back, allowing himself a second to breathe--to heal and regain his surroundings. It seemed like it was just them again, them and the strewn out corpses. He could sense it though--one more angel present.

Dean tilted his head toward the house, an arm around one side of Sam as Lucifer had the other--with Sam vehemently protesting between them that his legs were fine and to stop touching his wrists because that _fucking hurts, you dicks_ (Sam wasn’t exactly used to being up in the action like that)--and Castiel nodded.

He could feel the twinge of pain where he’d been stabbed, even though it was just an ordinary wound, one that would probably heal in the next few seconds. He was in tune with this body though, there wasn’t a thing he couldn’t feel in its physicality. Another aspect that made him able to pretend he and Dean were almost the same sometimes--just enough.

Bobby, Crowley, and a surprisingly familiar guest awaited them in the house.

“Trickster.” Dean narrowed his eyes at the man sitting in the armchair. “I thought I killed you.”

Gabriel gave him a look, gesturing to his fully intact body, and raised his eyebrows. Obviously not dead. He watched Dean’s expression, the tightening of his jaw, and, satisfied with the hunter’s annoyance, shrugged, “Well, let’s just say I work multiple jobs.” He looked to Castiel and Lucifer--who was lending Sam a healing hand since hiding was no longer an issue. “What’s up, bros? Miss me?”

Lucifer barely spared him a glance as he shuffled Sam up the stairs, “No, not really.”

“Gabriel.” Castiel spoke tersely, pursing his lips.

The trickster pouted for a second, but his expression quickly faded to his normal smirk--Dean could’ve sworn it was his default face, one that screamed “dick” to everyone who saw him. “So, this is it?” Gabriel asked, gesturing to the upstairs and to those gathered in Bobby’s living room.

~

“I’m fine,” Sam protested as Lucifer pushed him down on the bed. The devil gave him a disbelieving look and Sam added, “Thanks, you know. For the--”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

Lucifer’s voice sounded strange. Sam still had trouble distinguishing the nuances and their meanings. He just…seemed like there were things he wasn’t saying and Sam wasn’t sure if they were _important_ things--whether to the whole apocalypse business, to him, or about his past--or if it was just the normal worry of someone caught up in heavenly bullshit.

He propped himself up on his elbows, “What’s up with you? I mean, besides, you know, _that_.” What _that_ was couldn’t be more obvious.

Lucifer crawled on top of him, hovering above his waist. Although he didn’t give Sam an actual answer, he held a finger to his lips and Sam dropped it--for now.

He then bit his lip because the devil was unbuttoning his jeans and, oh, _fuck_ , he was already half-hard. He’d be embarrassed, even now, but Lucifer didn’t seem to mind. In fact, that seemed to be his goal here. Sam opened his mouth to speak again, but the devil was slipping him free of his jeans and dipping his head down, mouth open, tongue darting out to lick the head before he--“Oh, god.” He fisted the pillow behind his head, his hips bucking unconsciously.

Lucifer pulled his lips from Sam’s cock with a slurp and frowned playfully, “No, I think you mean the other one.”

“Lucifer.” Somehow, it came out far more breathless than Sam thought he was. Then again, Lucifer’s hand was slowly stroking him as he waited for Sam’s correction.

The devil swallowed him down, tongue flicking over the underside of the head as he came up, only to sink back down, groaning around Sam’s cock, the other boy’s back arching . His hand stroked the shaft in time with his movements, his lips wrapped tight around Sam, saliva running messily around him.

Sam couldn’t help thinking it was a little bit obscene, but mostly his thoughts consisted of “don’t stop” and “fuck, that’s good.” Lucifer may not have been overly experienced or anything, and this was _not_ the perfect blow job, but, _damn_ , it was fantastic for Sam. He tried his best not to fuck Lucifer’s mouth, but the devil seemed to be encouraging it, teasing his hips and trailing his fingers to the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, fondling his balls as he sucked, eyes on Sam. The other boy was murmuring things, curses, things like “there” and “don’t stop,” as well as moans far too guttural to even pretend to be words.

The Winchester gave in as Lucifer’s tongue toyed with him, slowing to drag his tongue over the slit and slurping on the head.

“Please, just…” Sam was breathing hard and, meeting Lucifer’s eyes, he whimpered a little as the devil merely slid his lips further down the shaft, waiting for Sam to move. With a groan, Sam let his hips snap upwards into the inviting heat of Lucifer’s mouth. He tried for gentle, but his hand went to grip Lucifer’s blonde hair, tugging at it, but effectively stilling him as he fucked his mouth.

The devil reached a hand down to press on his own erection through his jeans, moaning. His other hand moved to grip Sam’s hip, allowing himself to be more in tune with the movement.

Sam could feel it building, heat coiling in his belly as he thrust up again and again. He should pull away, and he tries, but Lucifer’s hand tightens around his hip, lips moving around him once more as he comes, shaking and mouth slack as he does.

Lucifer sucks it all down, pulling off and swallowing. He wipes a hand over his face and moves up Sam’s body, straddling his hips. Sam’s too dazed to keep track of time, and although he’s spent for the moment, the haze of lust still lingers and he watches, enraptured, as, in what seems to be only a second, Lucifer has undone his own jeans, sliding his cock out and stroking quickly. He pushes his shirt up, rucking it up above his ribs as he groans. The devil leans back, jerking his cock through a few more strokes before he’s shooting onto his own chest and stomach in thick stripes, panting.

Lucifer looked at Sam, a smile tugging at his lips, “That…was not wear I was intending this talk to go.” His shirt dropped over his stomach and made his previous efforts not to dirty it pointless.

Sam manages to close his mouth for a second, “Okay.” He knew that wasn’t what he needed to say, so he tried again, “What were you gonna tell me?”

“I was gonna…” His face screws up like he wonders if it’s the right word he’s thinking of. “Break up with you. Still should, really.”

Sam balks at him, “What? Why?”

“Sam…I’ve taken a bad situation and made it worse for you.” He sighed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was fun doing it. And…to be honest, I’d probably do it again, but…I knew they wanted you and only more so because of me.” This was an odd conversation to be having covered in semen, but there was no point in stopping now. “Hmm. How can I better explain? You’re a vessel. _My_ vessel. I told you that. The fact that I’m screwing you only makes them want you for more than just holdings in the apocalypse.”

“So?” Sam said, suddenly stubborn. “It’s too late now anyway, right?”

“Not necessarily. If I was just using you, they might not care enough to, you know, torture you.”

~

“Is nobody going to heal me?” All eyes turned to Crowley as if he’d just interrupted the very important silent staring portion of the conversation--which he had. “We’ve already been found out.” He pointed to Castiel and then himself. “Hurry up now.”

Castiel glared at him a moment, but left Dean’s side, touching Crowley for a second and retreating back.

“Is this ‘Team Free Will’ thing just a bunch of you dudes screwing each other?” Gabriel asked finally, having observed enough to guess. Bobby coughed, turning red, and Crowley smirked, patting the old hunter’s knee, serving to embarrass him further. “’Cause I wouldn’t mind getting in on some of that action.” He sent a wink in Dean’s direction. The Winchester expression turned to disgust, arms crossing over his chest protectively, and the archangel chuckled. He was even more delighted to see the way Castiel’s lips thinned in anger, hands clenching into fists. “Jealousy looks good on you, bro.” The other angel tried to relax, but his glare was harder than ever.

“You gonna help us or what?” Dean spoke easily, the tension in the room giving him more than enough confidence to take charge.

Gabriel picked at his fingernails, “Maybe.”


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why it took me this long, guys. It's not even a long chapter. But, uh, yeah. Reference is more to Marvel Loki than mythological Loki, just so you know. (You could go on more specifically to assume movieverse. Yep.)

“Is today the day you want to finish the apocalypse?” Dean brow furrowed in indignation and he opened his mouth to speak, but Gabriel already knew the answer. “No? Alright, then. We should probably get the hell outta Dodge.”

Crowley groaned, “It never stops with you lot, does it?” He patted Bobby’s hand, “Another row? Already? Darling, maybe we should just give up on this whole ‘saving the world’ schtick.’ I think I might be over it. You?”

Bobby’s mouth had been set in a grim line, worrying over what came next, but it twitched up at the corners. “Love to, but it’s just not in our nature,” he replied glumly.

“So, what?” Dean said, sizing up their situation. He didn’t exactly _want_ to take Gabriel’s advice, no matter what it might be, but the angels knew where they were. If they stayed, Zachariah and Raphael and _whoever else_ could find them whenever they wanted. Dean’s life goals didn’t include watching his makeshift family get killed by angels, even if he was still iffy on Lucifer and Crowley. Siding with Gabriel gave him no joy, but it was better than the alternative. Plus, he’d much rather be screwing over Team Apocalypse than a slightly less threatening--although about a million times more _annoying_ \--trickster, if those were his options.

“So…let’s go.” Gabriel pointed to the door in indication of their escape, making it all the more obvious even he wasn’t fond of the sitting duck approach. “Now, I’d love to zap you all away from here once my brother’s done with yours,” he looked to Dean, “But I hear Dean-o is afraid of flying.”

“One,” Dean began, in defense of himself, counting reasons out on his fingers as he went, “it’s just not natural. Two, shut up.” He wiggled his two fingers, thinking, “And, uhhh,” he stopped, frowned, and continued, “Three, can’t they track you?”

“Dean, Dean, Dean, little Cas over there didn’t even know I was alive, much less where I was. The others don’t have a _clue_.” Gabriel propped his ankles up on Bobby’s coffee table, hands resting on his stomach, looking every bit the smug-archangel-turned-trickster that he was.

“And how do you do that? Make yourself disappear or whatever, from them?” Dean asked incredulously. It was a useful skill to have, he supposed, 

“I’ve got ins with the other gods. Pretend to be Loki for a few centuries and they start to believe it.” He paused, his oncoming tangent evident, “I did meet the real Loki a few times. That guy’s psycho, always raving about his brother. Man, what a weirdo. He could’ve learned a few lessons from yours truly.”

“So…they help you or somethin’?” Bobby asked, a bit confused. Irritation had already sunk in, making the gratefulness he’d felt only a half hour before almost forgettable.

The archangel snorted, “’Course not. I just _learned_ their loopholes. Duh.”

“I still don’t want anybody mojo-ing me to a farm in Sweden-- Well…” An image of blonde milkmaids who know little English popped into his mind and he shook his head, with more certainty. “No. My baby can take me wherever I need to go.”

“Wouldn’t he do the same?” Gabriel joked, forcing Castiel to look ever-so-slightly flustered.

Dean set his jaw, “You know what I mean.” The Impala, however, could not fit all of them. Nor did he even want to _consider_ the idea of everyone trying to push and shove their way into his car, messing her up and he could just _imagine_ what Gabriel would spill on her seats.

“I could fly solo,” Lucifer announced, sauntering back in the room in a different t-shirt--in fact, the one he’d been wearing that first day they’d met him instead of one of Sam’s--and a none-too-happy Sam in tow.

Dean considered the idea, but it was shot down by Castiel’s resounding, “No.” Dean focused on his angel and Castiel, with a meaningful look tossed in his direction, continued, “There’s a reason that we’ve kept an eye on Lucifer. He can’t hold them off on his own, not when he’s a key piece of the apocalypse. They need him in their fight and we can’t afford that happening.”

Lucifer tilted his head from side, “And…I guess if we’re being honest, I still wouldn’t exactly _mind_ kicking the shit out of Michael.”

“He did what he had to.” Raising an eyebrow, Dean added, “You’re no saint, either.”

Gabriel looked from one of them to the other, smirk growing to ever larger proportions, “Maybe daddy just didn’t love you enough, Luci. I mean, he did tell Michael--”

“Guys.” It was Sam this time who interrupted, shooting a glare in the archangel’s direction. “Does this not seem a little too close to their plan?” Dean looked at him in confusion. “I’m sure tension between Michael’s vessel and Lucifer will make the angels,” he chewed out the next work, “ _overjoyed_.”

The anger that had been lining Dean’s face smoothed away in an instant, “No way am I appeasing those dickbags.”

Sam sighed, “Good. So we’re all on the same page.” He looked to Lucifer.

The devil merely gestured for him to move it along, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. We’re fine. I’m not going to kill your brother, blah, blah, blah.”

Gabriel frowned a little, disappointed that his influence had been so quickly dismissed. He just wanted to see how far they’d take it--after all, there was a reason the Winchester boys had been chosen…well, _made_ for this. Testing the waters was only sensible for him. It wasn’t that he was taking the side of the other angels, most of whom he’d always found to be too obnoxious to comprehend--even if they were and _are_ still his brothers--but it would be unreasonable to jump onto the pathetically tiny side that was “Team Free Will” without ensuring it wasn’t a ship that was already well on its way to sinking. They seemed to be fairly focused on their goal though, if not just sticking it to his brothers. _Drat._

“We need to go,” Castiel spoke and Dean seemed to sense his anxiety, nodding. They shared a look, one that Dean was reminded meant more than it used to. Well, one that meant the same thing, but what he was only now willing to read into. Not that he would. Not much, anyway.

Dean crushed his sudden freakout on his now _relationship_ with Castiel and attempted to formulate a plan. It wasn’t working out too well in his favor, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth the effort. Maybe this time he’d know what to do, or, at least, make something up like usual. “We need to go,” he repeated, glancing at his sixteen-year-old brother, whose sour face reminded him once again that their lives continued to _suck_.

Gabriel huffed a sigh. This needed to move itself along. “Where to, if not _beautiful_ Sweden?” he asked, that little bit of sarcasm seeping into his words but hands spread in askance.

“Canada?” Crowley suggested.

The room turned to glare, “No.”

It could have come from any of them.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, guys. I'm _so_ sorry. But I just posted my Dean/Cas mini-bang (18k is still mini, readable [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/526473) on ao3) yesterday, so I thought I'd get some of this done before I need to _really_ concentrate on my Teen Wolf Big Bang. Why do I do this to myself (and you)? At least this is a longer chapter...
> 
> Anyway, new season tomorrow! Let's hope we aren't disappointed.

“It was a _joke_ ,” Crowley assured, but Bobby still eyed him warily as they grabbed their things.

~

Dean wasn’t sure how Bobby had gotten him to leave his younger brother with a demon and the devil himself, but it was just how things had worked out. Bobby wouldn’t let anything happen to Sammy, Dean knew, but…at the same time, it didn’t really ease his nerves knowing Gabriel might be keeping them company as well.

It had been a day and a half now and Sam still seemed to be alive and...well, so there was that.

Castiel sat beside him in the passenger seat, looking serious as usual, staring out the window and occasionally glancing at Dean.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Dean said, although he knew it was just force of habit. If things weren’t fine, they’d probably all be dead anyway. No one could call him out on his bullshit then.

Castiel didn’t respond and Dean wondered if somehow, left to his own devices, he had already screwed up whatever they had going on, too. In a way, it would be a relief…but a really disappointing one, at that.

Dean turned up the music and sang along, knowing that would have cheered Sam up, at least.

The angel merely raised his eyebrows minutely and watched him.

Nudging him, Dean forced out a laugh, “C’mon, it’s a classic.”

Castiel nodded and looked back toward the road, frowning ever so slightly.

Dean sighed. A couple more hours and they’d stop at some motel where Cas wouldn’t sleep and Dean would try not to worry while compulsively cleaning his guns--not that they’d do much for his current predicament.

~

To “make it easier on him” Lucifer had decided he should have as little close contact with Sam as possible. This was abundantly more awkward considering the two of them were basically on a road trip with Bobby and Crowley, who were acting too much like parents for either of their liking.

Every time Sam would think to make a remark to Lucifer, even if it was only because he was stuck in the same predicament, he’d have to stop himself. This wasn’t a skill he excelled at.

Gabriel appeared in the backseat between them. “How’s it going?”

The rage in Bobby’s eyes was clear in the rearview mirror, “You want me to crash this damn thing?”

“Of _course_ not,” Gabriel told him, leaning forward to stick his head between the demon and hunter. “I’m not trying to race you to heaven. Al _though_ …wouldn’t _that_ be fun?”

No one replied.

Gabriel sat back with a huff, “God, you’re all so _serious_. Who died?”

“My parents,” Lucifer responded, ignoring the ache in his chest that came with the memory. He hadn’t really had to deal with it, hadn’t had time to. He figured continued ignorance could only do him good.

Sam felt a pang of sympathy, murmuring, “Sorry,” quickly before continuing pointedly, “And the rest of the planet if we don’t save it.”

Gabriel looked at Sam, expression rather stern considering who he was, “You’re cute. Have we met?” He smiled and it reminded Sam of a predator before it bit into its prey, but, then again, it was the apocalypse.

Resisting the urge to pull away--because Gabriel wasn’t just here to mess with them, he was going to _help_ …or something--Sam extended his hand the extremely short distance to Gabriel, “Sam.”

“I know.” The archangel took his hand and pulled to his mouth, planting a kiss atop it.

Sam slipped his hand back into his lap as fast as he could manage, wishing he wasn’t blushing as he scoffed at Gabriel.

Gabriel’s appraising eyes swept up and down his body, “Hubba, hubba. Look at _you_.” He grinned with a bit of tooth this time and Sam _knew_ he must be fucking with him, knowing that he and Lucifer were together. He probably just wanted a reaction out of him.

Sam shivered nervously and attempted to look any where but the archangel beside him.

“Hands to yourself, back there,” Bobby warned. “Boy’s only sixteen and you’re older than _me_. Not to mention a different _species_.”

“So’s he,” Gabriel said brightly, pointing to Lucifer.

“I’m aware of that,” the old hunter grumbled and Gabriel already had his attention back on Sam.

“You’ve grown up _well_ ,” the archangel joked with a wink.

Lucifer’s jaw tensed and his hands clenched, but he could wait it out. This time.

~

Dean threw his bag onto the bed and decided gun-cleaning and worrying could wait while he took a shower and got something to eat. He might have been used to it, but sitting in the car all day eating fast food did make a shower sound mighty appealing.

Not to mention he’d spent the night before sleeping in the car and calling Bobby about fifty times in a row with little concerns he thought the old man should take into consideration. As if he didn’t already know.

He and Cas had discussed only the game plan before, with a few drinks from his flask, he’d managed to pass out. Cas could keep an eye out while he made an attempt at rest.

In the reasonable comfort of the hotel, Dean was _hungry_. He had snatched a few take-out menus from the front desk and chose almost at random. Chinese food. He called it in.

The angel had his head tilted to the side and Dean knew what that meant. He was listening to his brothers and sisters, trying to find out whatever he could. It probably also gave him a sense of familiarity that became less and less comfortable as he was forced to slaughter his family, leaving him guilt-ridden.

Dean pushed away those thoughts as he placed the order and gave them his information. “Thirty minutes?” Dean confirmed and, with an affirmation, hung up the phone, eyeing Cas while the angel wasn’t doing the same. He headed to the bathroom, “Hey, I’m gonna shower. So…if the delivery guy comes, give him a few bucks and take the food, Cas, alright?”

He took a long shower, longer than he had allowed himself in a while. Even during their almost vacation-like stay at Bobby’s, there were other people to worry about--whether just that they were there or because he had to share the shower with them. Plus, he didn’t need Crowley and Lucifer of all “people” judging him.

When he emerged from the fog of steam and back into the room, there was food on the table and Cas sitting awkwardly beside it.

He rubbed the smaller towel over his hair, aware of the fact that he was almost naked in front of the angel again. He wasn’t sure whether he should treat it like he did the day Cas had told him about Lucifer or more like two days ago when he and Cas had… Well, yeah.

It shouldn’t really matter. It wasn’t as if Cas really cared about those things anyway.

Throwing the small towel on the floor--Sam wasn’t here to scold him for it, he’d do as he liked, thank you very much--Dean sat down in the chair across from Castiel, popped open a box, and broke apart the little wooden chopsticks that were a borderline safety hazard. Before he took a bite of his chow mein, he tilted it towards Cas, “Want some?”

The angel shook his head and Dean was midway through slurping his first bite of noodles into his mouth when Castiel _looked_ at him.

He froze in place for a second before realizing how utterly ridiculous he must look. Swallowing down his food with an audible gulp, Dean set down the chopsticks. That was not a “we’re allies and I guess I trust you” affirmation of a look, or a “our friendship means a lot to me” look… No, it was definitely a “if you don’t take your clothes off now I’m going to smite you” look. Which was one Dean was generally familiar with, only this time with a Cas twist to it.

He also didn’t really have to remove much.

Dean lifted an eyebrow, “Cas?” The angel seemed to acknowledge, but said nothing. “C’mere.” He pulled himself to his feet and hauled Cas up to face him, letting his towel fall to the floor. _Completely_ naked in front of someone who was both fully clothed and very powerful wasn’t a kind of vulnerable Dean liked to be, but it was _Cas_.

The angel kissed him first, crushing his mouth to Dean’s so quickly Dean wondered if he was going to have to remind him that humans needed _air_. He pushed the trench coat and jacket off in one movement, but as soon as Cas dropped them, his hands were roaming Dean’s body.

His mouth left Dean’s to suck at his throat, his collarbone, his chest, dropping to his knees as he gradually moved lower. “Cas, you--you don’t have to--”

Castiel’s tongue swiped over the head of his cock and Dean’s knees almost buckled. It’s not the mere fact that someone’s mouth was on him, but he could see a disheveled angel looking up at him with those unearthly blue eyes as his lips wrapped around his cock and it was almost too much.

Dean bit his lip, watching Castiel’s mouth sink around him. He could feel the angel’s tongue on him and his eyes fell closed.

Barely a minute later, Castiel pulled back, “Dean, I need-- I want you to--”

The frustration Dean felt at Castiel’s sudden halt was made up for by his flustered speech. “What do you want me to do, Cas?” The huskiness of his voice was betrayed by his amusement.

“ _Dean_.”

The sound was so plaintive that Dean couldn’t help the chuckle that came out. “What?”

Castiel stood and started fumbling with the buttons of his own shirt instead of giving Dean the verbal answer he had wanted. With Dean’s assistance, he’s stripped down to nothingness.

Dean’s eyes met Castiel’s. “Cas?” he tried again.

Confidence somehow restored by this chain of events, Castiel spoke in no uncertain terms, “Fuck me.”

Dean has always appreciated someone who could tell him what they wanted--even if it did take a while. Scenarios flashed through his head, and despite the selfish part of his libido telling him one thing, he decided he ought to choose something that would make Cas comfortable, and not just physically. _Well_ , there would be some discomfort any way they did it--which he was still very aware of, although no longer so bothered by--he could minimize it.

“Alright,” he said, palming Castiel’s erection, slipping his fingers around it and stroking it a few times.

The angels eyes were alight, open and begging. He kissed Dean fervently, causing the hunter to nearly stagger backwards. Pulling Castiel with him, Dean settled onto the bed, his back against the headboard.

Wariness gone, Castiel straddled Dean’s thighs and with the way the angel was already rutting against him, Dean knew he should’ve grabbed lube before he got them here. Before he can scrabble for something-- _anything_ \--he can use, he sees a bottle on the nightstand and can see just how far ahead Castiel had planned while he had been in the shower.

He slicked his fingers, body reacting unconsciously to Castiel’s movement, and looked to Cas for affirmation. He worked in one finger, making Castiel wriggle against him, allowing more human instincts to take hold, then another. It was tight and the stretch was difficult, but he could feel Castiel’s body giving in, his desire for Dean to have him just as he’d had Dean making things easier. With the third, Castiel’s impatience had grown to substantial levels, what with the way he was ordering Dean to fuck him already.

Dean had only seen the angel so undone when they’d been together before, but it was something he was growing fonder and fonder of. He kissed him again, mouth trailing down his jaw, to his throat, biting and sucking at the skin he found, fingers pushing and pressing and stretching until he knew Castiel could take it.

He removed them carefully and Castiel waited, watching him. “Dean.”

A few slicking strokes to his cock later, he lined himself up with the angel, moving slowly enough to make Cas take matters into his own hands.

The angel pushed back against him, sliding himself down the length of Dean’s cock.

Dean rested his head on the angel’s shoulder, still attempting to hold back, despite Castiel’s enthusiasm. “Don’t wanna hurt you,” he murmured into the angel’s skin. Not more than he already had, having forced a fucking angel into rebellion, into fighting his own, into helping Dean and losing everything in the process.

Castiel shifted, pushing Dean back against the headboard to look him in the eyes, “I made my choices, Dean. I know I’m on the right path.”

Hating how well Castiel knew him, Dean could only nod. To distract from the rapidly increasing amounts of emotion he never wanted to deal with, Dean rolled his hips, eliciting a response from the angel, the incremental press of their bodies together. “You gonna have your way with me or what?” Dean smirked, slightly breathless--not _choked up_ , alright?

The angel began to move and Dean responded in kind, their bodies slotting together perfectly, the heat of Castiel’s body on his causing the friction to ease as they became sweat-slick and sticky.

Castiel arched forward, resting his forehead against Dean’s and hips continuing. His cock rested heavily between them, a stripe of heat across Dean’s abdomen. Dean curled his fingers around it, stroking it as their eyes locked.

“Dean,” Castiel murmured, voice sounding hoarse and difficult to hear over Dean’s own heartbeat thundering in his ears.

The hunter closed his eyes, almost dizzy trying to keep his eyes on the angel’s with their heads as they were. He moved his hand from between them and wrapped the arm around Castiel’s back, “Go with me here.” He felt more than saw Castiel’s nod and slanted their bodies across the bed, rolling them over so he could be on top. “Alright?”

“Yes,” the angel responded and wriggled underneath him.

Dean chuckled, “Good.” He settled himself more comfortably between Castiel’s legs, one slipping over his own. Catching his breath, he began to move again. In almost that instant, Castiel’s hands came up to clutch at his shoulders, more forceful than he meant to be, but Dean knew what had happened. With his next thrust, he watched the angel’s face, the way it contorted--mouth open, crying out soundlessly. “Like that?” He grinned, restraining himself for a second.

With no response other than a gasp, Dean let his hand slide back to Castiel’s cock, syncing his rhythm and causing his angel to grapple at him again, to hold on for dear life. He moved faster now, quick and precise as long as he could stand it, but it soon lost out to the pleasure sweeping over him. “God, Cas…”

Cas ignored the blasphemy as the intensity of it caught him off guard and he was groaning, burying his face into Dean’s chest, barely aware of the hot wetness painting across them both.

“Fuck,” Dean cursed, unable to control himself as his hips snapped, Castiel’s muscles still clenching and unclenching around him. “Cas, I-- unh.” He gasped, pouring himself into the angel beneath him.

What felt like moments later, Dean slid himself out and managed to flop down beside Cas.

“Damn, I’m hungry.”

~

“So, you’re just going to let him hit on you?” Lucifer asked the moment Gabriel disappeared on them. It wasn’t because he and Sam were…had… No, he told himself. It was just how extremely _inappropriate_ it was that made him voice the question, not because he had any right to judge Sam’s actions. Denying jealousy, however, only made its presence more clearly known.

Sam spared him a glance, eyebrows raised in disbelief, but refocused his attention out the windshield to the road. A spiteful part of him wanted to flirt back the next time the archangel paid them a visit, but mostly…it hurt. He leaned his head against the window, away from Lucifer.

The devil bit down his apology. Silence was best when he’d shown too much weakness already.

“ _That_ was the best you could find, huh?” Bobby aimed at Crowley.

The demon glared daggers in his direction until it turned to an amused smirk. “Think you could do better, darling?” he asked sweetly, sarcastically.

The old hunter grumbled something under his breath before inhaling deeply, “Glad you’re alright.”

“Me, too,” Crowley replied honestly. He placed his hand between them and Bobby’s soon covered it, intertwining their fingers.


End file.
